Cat’s Eye
by oh-ohmy-oohhkay
Summary: Post S1, Pre-Maniax in S2. Mostly Selina POV. The Penguin starts acting like an actual penguin. Selina has to take care of him while he's trying to mate with his favorite detective. Ivy is the definition of "homewrecker." Gobblepot fluff with some Selina/Bruce. Lots of swears so far. also pretty emotional, not gonna lie.
1. Chapter One: Wonderland

What the actual hell has my life become? Alright, so it was never _normal_ but it was _believable_ at least.

Up until the whole showdown between every criminal who wanted to take Falcone's place, that is. I mean, the overly-cheery, creepy couple taking homeless kids was honestly predictable. Also, easily escapable. The absolute rush of clawing that guy's eye out had to be the highlight. I had been waiting for an opportunity to use my claws.

I usually use guns now since I have easy access, thanks to my Boss. He was an alright guy sometimes, mostly a dickhead and kinda creepy, but still fine to me at least. He's actually the one who put me in this situation, and not even my claws can get me out.

I'm officially his confidant.

And I'll tell you what, he's got some weird-ass demons.

Especially with Ivy Pepper sneaking around the club. Well, I let her of course. I couldn't leave her on the streets after already crashing Barbara's apartment. No one knows... except Butch. He doesn't say anything though. He and Ivy bonded or something cause now he helps her out with whatever. Like that jungle she's growing in the storage closet that opens into the alley. That girl's really weird with plants. She took the vegan thing a little too far if you ask me.

For the first couple of weeks, she was fine. She stayed quiet, didn't leave the room with people around, so genuinely well-behaved. Then she saw my Boss, and looked a little too hard at The Penguin. She started planting different seeds in the same hole in the ground and cutting seeds in half to fuse with others. Eventually she grew this freaky super plant and collected from it. After a couple of days, she had a small bottle filled with pink liquid and put a cork in it that said "drink me" across the top.

Weird as it sounds, the "King of Gotham" is a super fucking dork. He read Alice and Wonderland as a kid and let his better judgment fly out the window. He downed the whole bottle and looked around excitedly, expecting, I don't know, a miniature door he was supposed to shrink to fit in? Needless to say, that didn't happen. Just as he was figuring out "hey, I'm in a position of power now and shouldn't drink some random potion laying around," he fucking passed out.

Like, he didn't even _try_ to catch himself. I almost made the sound effects of a tree falling over. I didn't though; I didn't want him to hear me and have him sore at me.

I walked over to him after a couple of minutes, careful not to let my boots clunk too hard on the _polished_ floor. I crouched down next to him and grabbed his face just enough to squish his cheeks together. He didn't even flinch. ' _Like a rag-doll_ ,' I thought to myself.

"Is he out?," Ivy's whisper broke the edge in the air.

"Yup," I answered simply. I stood up and looked around for Butch or Gabe. Not even the nameless "henchmen" were around. I tried to keep the annoyed growl in my throat but only Ivy was around. I stared at the _decadent_ ceiling for a minute, nostrils flared. If I didn't pick him up, I wouldn't know what would happen. I didn't like that thought.

I grabbed the bottle and almost hit Ivy with it. She smartly took it away from me. I hooked his arm in the crook of my elbow and pulled him for about a yard before he slipped through.

"Oh, be serious," I mumbled aloud. Ivy apparently left, because her footsteps echoed until she was behind me. I turned around to see the lovely Butch _and_ Gabe trailing behind her. I'll never understand why big burly men are so fond of her. They even brought her candy sometimes. I don't know.

"Mr. Penguin needs a nice, long rest, don't you think?," she turned to Butch. Butch nodded. He and Gabe picked Boss up by the shoulders and dragged him down the hall to his room. One of his dress shoes slipped off and I hastily grabbed it, following them in. He had a surprisingly modest room with no windows, but it had a door to his own bathroom. He had a full bed at least. ' _Not a king?,_ ' A silly voice remarked in my head.

"Thank you, Boys," I patted them both on their shoulders and they oh-so _slowly_ left the room. The door clicked shut and I took off his other shoe, putting the pair away in his _special_ spot. I thought better of it than to take off his suit, preferably to not scar my mind further. I prayed to God no one would come in and see my next act.

I climbed up on the bed and sat right behind his head, careful not to sit on his pillows. Hey, I may be working towards taking his place eventually, but nobody deserves someone sitting on their pillows, no matter how tacky they are.

I snaked my arms around his torso and tugged him towards me until his head was level with the pillows. The back of his head was in the middle of my chest, but at that point I didn't care. I slipped out from under him and dragged the covers over him.

' _The things I do for this lune_ ,' I shook my head at the sight before me. He had that dumb smile on his face and his hair was sticking up in that classic Penguin way. It was kinda depressing how sweet he looked sometimes.

I had my hand on the doorknob, slowly turning it open, when the weirdest noise broke the soft silence. It was kinda like a snore but it was like a.. squawk. I bit my lip to stop the giggles bubbling within me and slipped out of the room.

A smile split my face until I saw Ivy and remembered what just happened. I walked to her quietly.

"What the hell did you give him?," I almost growled out but kept it a soft whisper.

"Well," she started in that sickeningly sweet tone that she used on men. God, I hated that tone. "He's The Penguin, right?"

I gave her a stern look. The sweet persona faltered.

"I just... thought it'd be funny," she mumbled to the wall.

"What would be funny?," I kept my gaze strong and pressing. My mind was racing of any kind of poisons I could think of. He wasn't dead. He wasn't. ' _If she's ruined this for me, IF I'VE BEEN SUCKING UP FOR NOTHING-_ '

"If he," she gestured vaguely, "...was a penguin."

* * *

AN: ch2 tomorrow.


	2. Chapter Two: Missing Shoes

"THE HELL DO MEAN ' _if he was a penguin_ '? YOU CAN'T JUST _POISON_ PEOPLE, IVY," alright, I was a little hysterical, but I had a right to be. The guide to my badass future could be dying in the other room. Or... turning into a bird native to the South Pole. Either way I'd be screwed.

"I didn't poison him!," she yelled back but calmed down swiftly. "He's just gonna be a little more adorable."

"Oh my god," I rubbed my face roughly, trying to make some kind of plan. I wasn't ready to take over yet. And if I had to have another boss I was gonna lose it.

"Relax! He won't be a literal bird. He'll just talk like one."

"So... he's fine?," I looked at her, hopeful. She nodded. I felt my whole body deflate, my head drooping.

"He may find a new appreciation for fish!," Ivy said happily, not caring about how she manipulated Boss for her own game.

"Whatever, he's alive," I sighed.

"Ey, is the Boss alright?," Gabe had hobbled over to us, his bushy eyebrows turning up in the middle of his forehead.

I forced a smile, "Peachy." The concern seemed to deepen in his features and I guessed he thought I was being sarcastic. "He just needs some sleep. Do you remember the last time he slept through the night?," I asked him, already knowing the answer.

"No...," he answered quietly. It wasn't like Boss didn't sleep; he would sleep for like four hours then be up again for the next day. He'd also choose 3 am to go to bed.

He used to _never_ sleep, supervising everything and telling everyone what to do. It took a couple months, but he finally let us help run the _family_ business. After a couple lessons with Butch, and some terrifying interactions with _Victor_ , I unofficially became "Advisor to the King." I never liked being in the spotlight, so I enjoyed being the errand girl.

Then Ivy just _had_ to intervene. She just _had_ to find him interesting enough to test her _plant_ _pollen_ on him.

It was around one in the morning or so, about three hours later from the little Wonderland incident, when I heard the door creak and Boss's unique footsteps.

"Hey," I greeted softly from my seat on the table. He hobbled over to me slowly, his eyes distant. "Boss?," I bent my head to look up into his face. He finally snapped out of it.

He opened his mouth to say something, but what came out was another animalistic squawk. My eyes went wide at the sound and he tried desperately to clear his throat. He opened his mouth again.

"Hello," he whispered to no one in particular. A sigh I didn't know I was holding left my lips.

' _He's not a penguin, he's not a penguin_ ,' I chanted to myself. ' _Ivy could never actually-_ '

"Here, kitty kitty kitty. Oh, Seliiiiinaaaaa," I heard her coo. She walked in with a long, black fur-ball in her arms. "Guess who _I_ found."

"Ivy, you can't just-," I was in the middle of reprimanding her through my teeth when the fur-ball's head perked up and meowed at me. "Mary!" I extended my arms to the cat and Ivy gave him to me. He purred in my arms.

"He was in the alley. I thought you'd want to see him," Ivy twirled a bit, expecting praise for catching my cat. When I didn't respond to her further, she turned to Boss. "Hello, Mr. Penguin. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Ivy." Ivy extended her hand towards him and he took it gently.

"Likewise," he croaked. He cleared his throat again. "Are you the redhead living in our back room?" My heart dropped. ' _How the fuck does he know everything?'_

"Huh?," Ivy looked genuinely confused.

"Oh, you know, the one who's been making a greenhouse out of my storage room?," he had that unpredictable smile on. I felt my insides turn to lead. I don't know who I was more worried for, her or me.

"Really?," she asked, "That's a storage room? But the glass roof is perfect for gardening." My jaw dropped. "Honestly, I put it to more use."

I wanted to scream at her, " _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ ," but the Boss's smile turned genuine and he actually laughed.

"Well, Ivy, I wish you'd have come to me before you moved in. You wouldn't have to keep sneaking around then." He took a moment for his words to sink in. "You may keep your garden on one condition," he paused to gage her reply.

"That is?," she finally asked.

"Your services go through me first. And you'll make whatever I ask. In exchange, I'll get you any supplies you may need. Sound fair?"

Ivy shrugged, "Sounds good to me."

"Excellent." He turned that grin to me. "Oh, Selina. You don't have to hide things from me. Especially useful friends. Or where you sneak off to every night," he had the nerve to _wink_ at me.

"What are you...," I started off defensively but settled for shaking my head.

He laughed again. "Bruce Wayne is a very lucky man," before I could even process what he said, his smile dropped to the floor. "If he hurts you he'll be dead within the day."

"Woah!," I almost yelled, facing my palms out in the stop-position. "Nobody's killing nobody, okay?"

"Wait," Ivy interjected. "Bruce Wayne? As in, the kid from the-"

" _Yes_ , Ivy, the same." I couldn't even wrap my head around the fact that we were talking about Bruce right then. About my personal life! "How did you even..."

"Well," he started in that annoyingly bashful tone of his, "on one of your days off, I just had this... feeling. I was... worried about you. Considering how important you are to... this business, I thought it would be stupid to not, at least, check on you." He actually managed to turn pink during this whole awkward speech. "And that's where I, or more specifically, Victor, found you with the young Bruce Wayne." I shivered at the thought of _Victor_ following me.

"Um... when exactly was this?" I was gonna _freak_ if it was that _one_ _time_ I wore a dress for Bruce's stupid homecoming or whatever. No one who knew me saw me in that dress except for Alfred and Bruce. ' _Oh God, what if that freak took a picture?_ '

"A couple months ago. Victor said you went all the way to the countryside to have a picnic. I guess that was a Wayne Get-Away home." A sigh escaped my lips.

"Yeah," I replied. "It was his grandfather's retirement house after his dad took over Wayne Enterprises. Very cozy." I don't know why I added that, but I did.

"How sweet. Perhaps, we should be acquainted-"

"NO," I blurted. I smacked my hand over my mouth a little too late. He gave me an almost hurt look. "I mean, he doesn't know I'm working for you. I don't think... he'd take it too well," I admitted honestly. He hummed in understanding.

"One of those strong-headed stoics, is he? Just like our favorite detective?"

"Favorite detective? Seriously?," sometimes, I really need to keep my mouth shut.

"Hm?," he asked for clarification, which I was not willing to give. "Jim can be stubborn sometimes, but it always works out in the end. He even killed a man to prove our friendship."

"That's..." _NOT WHY HE DID IT!_ "Great, Boss. I'm glad you two are friends." I plastered the best smile I could across my face. He took it in stride.

"Slowly but surely, Ms. Kyle," he continued swooning, "he'll be just like me, and we could rule Gotham together as partners. Kings..." he drifted off into space, a dopey smile still stretching his pale countenance. Heavy knocks vibrated the conference room door and Butch slowly opened it.

"Oh, Boss, you're up. There's someone out here wantin' to see ya." He snapped out of it.

He turned to Ivy and I, "excuse me, ladies." And walked right out the door. I didn't care to tell him he wasn't wearing shoes. The door shut behind them.

* * *

AN: who do you think is the mystery guest?

Ch3 later (today/tomorrow)


	3. Chapter Three: Barbara Crazy

"What in the _hell_ was that about?," Ivy screamed whispered at me.

"He must've known for a while...," I looked at her after glaring at the door. "You're lucky you're not dead. But now you're a part of the family business, I guess. Congrats."

"Not _that_ , Selina!," she cried. "That was _so_ creepy! Does he, like, have a thing for detectives?" Oh, so the stalking me part wasn't creepy, just the detective fetish.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard the story about him and Jim Gordon-"

"No, what?," I didn't notice she got progressively louder until that interjection. I gritted my teeth together.

"Jim was supposed to kill the Boss. He didn't. And he's been swooning over him since."

"Really?," she sounded a little too interested.

"Um. Yeah. He never shuts up about him. Always like 'he's like my best friend' and 'I just _know_ he cares about me' and stuff like that." She gasped.

"Awwww, how cuuuuute!"

I was stunned. "...what?"

"Imagine them together! Like a couple!," she gasped again, "imagine their wedding day!"

"What... men can't marry other men. It's against the law...," it wasn't like I was against gay men or anything, but they just literally couldn't get married.

"You really think the _law_ is gonna stop 'em?," she smirked.

"It's gonna stop Jim Gordon, that's for damn sure. Besides, last time I checked, he was dating some doctor chick, remember?" Barbara wouldn't shut up about it, how could she not?

"Oh. Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we, Mary?," she cooed to my cat.

"No matter how much of pain in the ass Jim Gordon is, there is no way I'm interfering with his happiness, or life otherwise," I said sternly. I thought she ignored me until she muttered softly:

"That's fine... I don't need help. I'm a perfect matchmaker, you see. It'll all be well in the end." I bore holes into her red-haired skull until she looked up at me. "Oh, please, I won't _kill_ her. That's too messy. No, I think I'll just scare her. I'm sure she's tired of this town already."

* * *

A loud banging on the door rustled the sleeping couple to half consciousness. A dark haired woman gently shoved her blond counterpart to the edge of the bed, signaling he was the one to deal with it.

Jim Gordon slipped out of bed and yanked a shirt over his head, his eyes half lidded and his feet bare. He padded carefully around the apartment and opened the shaking door. A panting Selina Kyle was before him, looking almost shell-shocked.

"Selina?," he asked groggily. She shoved him aside and started pacing in the apartment. "You alright?," he asked, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"We need to talk," she huffed out.

"Okay. What about?" Selina looked around the apartment wildly, seeking desperately for something.

"Are you still with that doctor chick?," she blurted finally.

"Lee? Yeah, why?," he asked, becoming concerned.

"Protect her, Jim," she was inches away from him, looking him straight in the eye.

"Why? What's happening?," he was completely awake now.

"It's," she closed her eyes, thinking hard, "it's a long story."

"And I've got time," he grabbed her shoulder gently. She took a deep steady breath and opened her eyes.

"Ivy's in love with you."

"Who?," his eyes squinted in confusion. Selina rolled hers.

"Ivy Pepper, idiot! Ya know, the one who's dad the police framed for the Wayne murders!," her normal voice sounded like shouting in the quiet apartment.

"Alright, alright," he said quietly. "And what do you think she's gonna do to Lee?"

"She said she just wants to scare her out of Gotham. I don't know what that exactly means but, it can't be good," he never heard her sound so worried. Ever. "She's crazy, Jim. I'm not so sure if she's _Barbara_ -crazy or not but-"

' _That was a little uncalled for_ ,' Jim thought to himself. "It's alright, Selina, relax. When did she tell you these plans?"

"Like," she glanced at the decorative clock on the wall, "an hour ago."

"Well, thank you for your concern, I really appreciate it, but it's very late. We'll handle this in the morning, okay?"

She sighed unsteadily, "Okay." Then a thought occurred to him.

"Do you need a place to sleep tonight?"

"Huh?"

"I said do you need a place to sleep tonight?," he asked again.

"I... well, I could just-" before she gave an answer he opened the hallway closet and pulled out a couple excess blankets and a pillow.

"C'mon, the couch isn't too bad," he commented as he shuffled into the living room. The couch looked amazing for the end of her rough day. She collapsed onto the wide cushions and lazily kicked off her boots. He chuckled softly and dropped the folded blankets and pillow onto her back. He shuffled back into his room and climbed back into the warmth that was his girlfriend.

* * *

AN: Chapter 4 soon. sorry if it's a bit choppy.


	4. Chapter Four: Friendly Advice

The distinct smell of bacon permeated the air. I cracked my eyes open to the sun beams shining through the curtains. My entire body sighed. It had been a long time since I woke up like this.

I realized that I wasn't back at the club by the bright colors and overall clean walls.

A slow panic bubbled in my gut. I shot up, got tangled in the blankets, and fell back on the couch.

"You alright over there, Ms. Grace?," a deep voice asked over the sizzling pan.

"I-," I started carefully unwrapping myself. "I'm fine. I just really need to get back."

"Would you like breakfast first, honey?," Jim's girlfriend asked me as she separated the eggs and bacon onto three plates. Jim even made toast.

I almost turned it down, not wanting to owe anything to them, but it was already there. I also couldn't remember the last time I sat down to eat. It was awkward as hell but I needed the energy.

I was about to ditch the place when Jim caught me before I could open the door.

"I appreciate you coming to me but I still don't understand what's happening. You say Ivy wants to run Lee out of town, right? What does she plan to do after that?"

"I... I don't know. Kidnap you maybe?," I'm not sure why I was feeling so defensive.

"Well, why don't I just have a talk with her? Let her down easy and you could help her see reason." I looked at my boots when he said that.

"You don't know Ivy." I looked up at him again. "Just... don't leave your girlfriend alone okay?"

"Wait," he gazed off into space for a minute but looked back at me. "I could send Lee away myself for a while and then talk to Ivy. Lee's been wanting to see her sister for a while and maybe this is the time to do it.

I stared at him, thinking it over myself. I sighed, "do whatever you want, Jim. Just be careful." That seemed to encourage his idea, but if something happened, I was not going to be the blame.

It was around 11 in the morning when I crept into the club. I was ten feet away from my door when a person cleared his throat to alert his presence. He turned on the light.

"Selina, Sweetheart, where have you been?," Boss asked in that creepily sweet tone.

"Out," I always gave blunt, unhelpful answers. It was my MO.

"With Mr. Wayne? Until morning? That's an awful long time with the bachelor of Gotham."

"He's not-," I started through gritted teeth but calmed myself down quickly. Boss knew all of my buttons. He mocked me with that beak-like smile. "I slept over a friend's house," I grumbled.

"Which friend?," the sweet tone dissipated.

"Why are you so invested into my personal life?," I snapped.

"How do you expect me to protect you if you won't tell me where you go?"

"I don't need protection!" I didn't care that people were usually sleeping during that hour, but I mentally kicked myself for a making scene anyway. I blasted my business out in the open about my business being out in the open.

He looked pretty shocked at my last comment, then he tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"I'm not working for you for protection. I'm here because... I want to be." And as strange as it sounds, I wasn't lying. I flailed my arms in exasperation, "I like it here. If I didn't, I'd be on the streets again, and that'd be fine, because I can take care of myself. If you kicked me out today I would be fine." I choked up at that thought: being thrown out, onto the streets again, starting from scratch, never stepping into the club again. The thought of never seeing Boss again, losing this weird partnership, hurt.

"Alright," was all he said for a few minutes. He stared at his hands, thinking something over, something probably completely unrelated. "Selina," he looked up at me, "I need some... advice."

Ad... vice?

"What kind of advice?," I asked slowly.

"Um," he turned pink and cleared his throat, which sounded like a softer squawk, "re-relationship... advice."

* * *

AN: ch 5 is under construction


	5. Chapter Five: The Zoologist

"Come again?," I could _not_ have heard that right.

"Well, I mean- what I mean to say is that- I noticed your relationship, obviously, and just wonder how you... did it."

"I...," _did_ it? "I just... well, it was kinda weird the way we met, I guess. I had to stay at his house for a while, but then we got chased by assassins. Then I showed him a bit of street life and he became obsessed with me. Asked everyone about me so he could give me a snow globe. Even asked me to live with him." For the record, I was not swooning right there. Just stating facts.

"Wow," he sighed softly. He held his chin in his palm, looking mesmerized.

That's the moment I decided, "to hell with it," and I told him all about Bruce and I. I told him about the bet I had with him when we threw bread at each other and how when I came back to say goodbye I kissed him anyway.

I never spill my whole life like that, but he was just so fascinated I couldn't help but share. I was smiling like an idiot at the end of it but I didn't feel like an idiot. It was like... someone actually cared.

When I ran out of cute little things Bruce did with me, a thought occurred to me. "Why'd you wanna know, Boss?" He faltered for a moment.

"Well...," he sighed, "I... plan on pursuing someone romantically, and would love your input on the whole-," he gestured vaguely, "thing."

"You mean, how to get a relationship?," I clarified. He nodded simply. "Well, I'm told I'm a big flirt but I never noticed myself. I just do what I want to and it usually works out. Do you really not have any ideas? There must be something you'd like to do to show your feelings." Judging by the way he hesitated, I was right.

"I... I do but...," he wrung his hands unconsciously. "But I don't think that it's... normal per se."

"I'm sure it's fine," I comforted, but he gave me this weird sideways look. It concerned me. "What is it?"

The next day, we went to the beach. It was a gray, gloomy morning and the water was a disgusting dark green. All the sand was wetter and courser than it should have been. Boss had that stupid smile plastered across his pale face.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "Isn't it perfect?"

"If you like drowning people, sure," another bird noise died before it left his throat.

"We're not drowning anyone, Selina," he told me calmly. "We are going to find something very special and use it to show my feelings."

"Wait, what?," he disregarded my question and started hobbling down the beach to the sea line.

We walked along the sea line for a while, him inspecting the mud closely and me squishing the wet sand with the heals of my boots. He was a couple of feet ahead of me when I felt something hard under my boot. I stopped and squatted, shoving my hand into the ocean mud and pulling out a perfectly smooth rock. It glittered in my hand.

"Hey, Boss," I held up my find, the mud slipping away from the stone. He stopped and turned around, looking sort of irritated, then his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He all but chucked his umbrella and hobbled surprisingly fast towards me. He stopped abruptly in front of me, staring only at the rock.

"Drop," he squeaked. My eyebrows furrowed.

"What?," I asked softly. He looked up at me.

"Please?" He looked so desperate. My confusion delayed me, but I flipped my hand over and it flopped back into the sand. He crouched down awkwardly and scooped up the stone again. He had a countenance of pure bliss.

"Wow," he sighed giddily, his face splitting in a genuine smile. "It's perfect." He rubbed the rest of the mud away from the rock with his thumbs.

"For what?," I asked. He glanced up at me again and his mouth opened, but a knowing smile replaced his almost-reply.

"You'll see," he answered simply and marched back up the beach. I was about to fight for the answer but thought better of it, stomping my way towards his disregarded umbrella.

"I hate it when you say that," I mumbled and scooped the umbrella up rather aggressively.

That wasn't even the end of our little adventure.

He had to "make it proper," which is fancy talk for putting it into a box. But not just any box; it had to be a _fancy_ box. So we went to one of the many jewelry stores in downtown Gotham, one that we didn't own because ours are all trash. He never said that directly but I know how he feels about some of our properties.

It was some French name in that obnoxious cursive and you could see the pretentiousness by looking through the large windows. They had a "black and white" aesthetic and I'm pretty sure that's the only reason Boss picked it.

I decided to wait across the street while he did his business. I just knew I would get into a fight in there. But he stopped in the middle of crossing the street to look at me expectingly. I gestured for him to keep going and leave me behind, but the idiot turned around and waited for me to join him. I stomped over to him, grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him onto the sidewalk, right outside the door.

"Excellent way to get yourself run over, Boss," I snapped.

"There weren't any cars coming," he informed me innocently.

"Yeah, well, you were in the middle of the road and some maniac could've been speeding down here," I gestured towards said road a bit dramatically. Listen, I've had enough scares for one week. He could stand to be a little more careful.

He opened the door and held it for me. He knew what I tried to do. He had to. I followed him in, my bitch face set into stone at this point. He walked up to one of the ladies behind the counter. She was reading a gossip magazine and had those obnoxiously long, fake nails that broke off when you tried to do anything. _Fantastic_.

"Hello," Boss greeted sweetly. She seemed to completely ignore him until she flipped the magazine closed and pushed it aside.

"Can I help you?," she gave a fake smile.

"I hope so," he joked. "I have a rather odd request but I need a suitable box for a delicate object."

"Well, how big's the thing?," she asked irritably. He blinked for a moment but slowly took out the rock from the beach. He held it up for her.

"This big," he murmured nervously. She squinted at the rock then looked to me.

"He's dating a zoologist," I blurted. "Her favorite animals are penguins." She still _stared_ at me. "They propose with smooth rocks they find."

She finally turned her focus to Boss and held out her hand for her to examine it better. He didn't budge. The lady sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Well," she started matter-of-factly, "that's too big for any ring box we have and unfortunately everything else is holding necklaces and the like. I could wrap it up for you if you'll let me." She held out her hand again and I saw Boss completely freeze, weighing the options of how to do it without directly giving it to her.

Then something from under his coat caught my attention. It was protruding from his waistline and lifted his coat up just make it visible to the watchful eye. I saw dark feathers and I realized, ' _IS THAT A FUCKING TAIL?'_

"Nope, that's alright, thank you for your time," I couldn't really register how loud I was being, but judging by her very surprised face, I was screaming. I grabbed him tightly and dragged him out of the store.

* * *

AN: I had to cut this chapter so ch 6 is done already. would love to hear your thoughts3

Also: how are there NO stories with Selina and Oswald? Like _anywhere_. I guess I'll have to write it all.


	6. Chapter Six: Allusions and Illusions

He was not impressed with my little outburst.

"What is your damage?," he nearly growled at me as we walked back to the car.

"You froze, Boss, what else could I do? You were uncomfortable, I was uncomfortable, it was just bad. You're lucky I took you with me instead of leaving you behind." His umbrella-turned-cane suddenly blocked my path, but I didn't look at him. I couldn't.

"Selina," his tone turned soft and I closed my eyes. "What's the matter?" I hated that question.

"Nothin, Boss, I'm good," my voice wavered slightly. We stood there a moment, the only sound was the cars rushing past on the wet pavement.

"Something happen with you and Bruce?," he inquired softly. I laughed.

"No, no, we're good. Clueless but good," I gave him a small smile, knowing my eyes were probably glossy. He watched me carefully and took the umbrella down, thinking something over in his head.

"Are you jealous?," he asked softly, gauging my reaction. I felt my face scrunch in confusion.

"Excuse me?," my voice went strangely high. I saw the almost-panic in his eyes. He put his free hand up in a sign of surrender.

"N-not to say I have anything more than you or I think you should be. I just mean, uh, are you, maybe, jealous of m-my affections?," his voice was slightly trembling now. I had no idea what he was getting at.

"Of your what?," I managed to get my voice down a little.

"Affections, wh-which of course I mean intentions; wait-" He took a deep breath. "Attention. Jealous of someone having my attention." I rose both eyebrows.

"And why, _Boss_ ," I annunciated my words while stepping closer to him. "Would I be jealous of your... _attention?"_

"Selina, sweetheart, you're misinterpreting me."

"Misinterpreting? Is that right?," my rage got the better of me, but I'm not the only one. His temper got pretty wild, too. No one can blame for this. "Well, _sir_ , it sounds like I'm in love with you but, ya know, you're my _boss_ -"

"You see, that's exactly what you're misinterpreting. I don't think you're in love with me, I think you...," his voice became uncharacteristically soft. Then he started gesturing vaguely. "Like... me. As a... person." He looked like he wanted to say more but was struggling pretty hard.

"You mean, like a _friend?_ ," I sassed a little hard but this guy really needed to get to the point. He nodded softly. "Then why, as a friend, would I be upset at your happiness?"

"I'm not saying you are," he sighed. "I'm saying that the thought of me being closer with someone else hurts, which I'm not sure it does for you, but I know I'd be upset if my best friend up and left me for some-," he gestured around again, "partner."

"You think I'm your best friend?," I wanted to sound rhetorical. I wanted it to be another weird comment of his but... I was awed. I asked it so softly and I prayed. Prayed for what, I'm not sure.

"I...," he studied me before he answered, "of course I do, Selina," he hushed. Emotions, positive ones at least, were neither of our fortes but it was a special moment. It was the first time he stepped down to my level and told me the truth without intense interrogation. "Not only are you my best friend, but my bodyguard and most importantly, my confidant."

That last part took me by surprise because he really didn't tell me much. It was the little things here and there about his day or the people he killed, you know. But I guess he couldn't tell anyone else, not even his ma. _Especially_ his ma.

I couldn't help but smile. "No, Boss, I ain't jealous. I'm happy you're finally _making a move_."

"Do you think," he looked off, watching the car instead back up towards them, "he'll accept it? M-my gift, I mean."

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Just don't tell him what it means, and y'all can be fiancés. I bet he'd get married and be like 'cool, gotta go to work now' and not even notice it was you." I was trying to cheer him up with that "cops are too serious" joke, but I think I actually upset him.

"It could never happen...," he smiled sadly. I opened the car door for him and he shuffled himself over so I could get in. I was glad the tail only looked like a wardrobe malfunction to any other passerby. I closed the door and lowered my voice so Gabe wouldn't hear much.

"Ya never know, Boss. This is Gotham after all. Anything could happen," I obviously didn't believe Jim would leave his girlfriend for Boss, being on opposite sides of the law and all, but weirder things have happened in Gotham... It was a shame that Boss didn't have another weirdo to call his own. Maybe Ivy could turn an actual penguin into a person for him.

"Oh, yes. Gotham: the land of opportunity. If only it could turn me into a woman, then perhaps...," he gazed longingly out of the window.

"Well, I don't know about _that_ but maybe if you started doing, like, _good_ things, he'd notice and be like 'oh, wow,' ya know?," I probably didn't make any sense but I made sense to me and that's all that matters.

"What specific skills does your friend have?," he asked me, his defeated demeanor completely gone. He obviously paid no attention to my suggestion.

"Who, Ivy? She likes to make perfumes and stuff. Like magic gas with her plant nectar," I joked.

"Magic, how?," I had his undivided attention.

"Um, like... weird perfumes, smoke bombs, stuff that knocks you out, and she's got it all separated with how long you're knocked out for. Then stuff to help with colds and headaches; she gets those a lot. Then, um, she...," I held out my hand in a "ya know" kind of way, "makes feel good stuff, and that's what she usually sells, but she makes beauty stuffs too."

"Anything like... illusions?"

"Like, appearance changers? I think I've heard her mention it but she hasn't really told me about it. Maybe she's trying to figure it out or something. She doesn't like to flaunt anything unless she's got it perfect."

He hummed, his mouth twisting into his planning-face. "I'll have to have a talk with her as soon as we get home."

"Home," I whispered to myself, a small smile forcing its way on my lips. Then it hit me. ' _About what?'_

* * *

AN: told ya it'd be up quickly. Happy thanksgiving!


	7. Chapter Seven: Here Comes The Sun

"So, you know how you've been wanting to visit your sister in Metropolis?," Jim mentioned after a sip of his drink. Lee hummed in confirmation while eating her second plate. "Well, I think you should. I was looking at plane tickets and they're not too bad right now. You could even go next weekend if you wanted to."

Lee smiled and rested her hand on his. "Thanks, honey, but I'd much rather do a train; it's not that far. And I already got tickets for this weekend," she remarked nonchalantly. He dropped his fork, which made a loud clink against the plate. She looked up at him.

"Were you ever gonna tell me or...?," he asked gruffly. She took back her hand.

"Well," she started softly, a pseudo-smile plastered across her face. "I was going to tell you last night, but you didn't come home until after I called, which you didn't answer. You really haven't given me a chance since I bought them yesterday," she gave him a stern look. His annoyed look dropped.

"Were you the," he cleared his throat, "did you call my work phone?," he asked genuinely.

"Yes, because you said you'd be working late," her tone suggested a sugar-coated accusation.

"I got the call," Jim explained quickly, "but I had... fallen asleep at my desk and your call... woke me. Then I went home."

Lee dropped the act, concern gracing her features. "You did practically pass out in your clothes last night," she recollected, gently grazing the bags under his eyes with her thumb. She sighed. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Jim. I know you want to do your best at your job, but there's a line between-"

"I know, Lee," he snapped, but immediately gave her an apologetic look. "I know." He picked up his fork again.

"How do you ever expect to settle down at this rate?" He looked up again.

"'Settle down'?," he asked around a mouthful of food.

"Barbara was your fiancée, wasn't she?," she pushed. "Didn't you want to start a family?" They stared at each other for a long moment. Jim swallowed.

"It wasn't really... a priority per se." Lee all but slammed her fork on her plate and got up from the table. "I mean if it happened I wouldn't be upset. I'd love to be a dad but...," he tried as she sashayed to the trash can and cleared her plate. He stood up as well. "Lee..."

"Don't, Jim," her voice wavered and he knew there were tears, "Just don't. I don't care anymore." She threw the plate in the sink, her heels clinking across the floor as she went to their room. He stood there another moment, then sat back down and finished his dinner.

Jim cleaned up, putting left overs away and wiping down the table. After he finished his drink, he nearly-tiptoed to their bedroom. He gently pushed the door open. She had her book open on her lap, holding the pages tightly, glaring off into space.

He knocked on the door. She blinked her thoughts away and lifted her book to cover her face. He shuffled across room and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. He felt for her feet under the covers and slowly inched up her shin towards her knee. He sighed softly.

"Yes, Jim?," she asked with feigned interest, staring holes into her book more than reading it. He replaced his hand on her knee with his cheek, giving her puppy eyes. She put the book down and gave him an expectant look.

"I would love to be a dad. I'm sorry if I seemed insensitive to the idea. Barbara never wanted to talk about it so I never thought about it. But I always wanted to be like my dad, that's why I'm a cop, and he had an amazing family. Sure he missed a couple baseball games but he always made up for it and he loved my mom very much. It wasn't even his job that took his life." He caressed her thighs as he spoke. Her face softened.

"Oh, Jim," she murmured sympathetically. He held up a hand.

"It's alright. I know I can be kind of an ass sometimes, and I'm sorry that I upset you. So tell me about the trip. When are you leaving?" She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Aw, I'm sorry," he chuckled softly, "I made you cry again."

"No, no. I'm just emotional tonight; I'm sorry," she told him just above a whisper, showing him her glossy, brown eyes. She moved the book from her lap and scooted forward, her arms spread towards him. "C'mere," she demanded. He obliged.

After a few minutes of cuddling, Jim still fully clothed, he thought about the trip again. "Lee?," he cooed. She hummed a response. "When are you leaving?" Lee held him tighter at the question.

"Tomorrow. 8 o'clock," she sighed.

"In the morning?," Jim asked. Lee hummed in confirmation. "Are you already packed?"

"Mostly," she sang, rubbing Jim's shoulders soothingly.

"Anything I can help with?," Lee giggled softly.

"No, I'm all set. Thank you though." Jim grunted and rolled off of her, resulting in her own little "oof." He undressed lazily and flopped back on the bed next to her.

"As long as you're set, I'm set," he mumbled through the pillow.

* * *

He knew his body was moving to get dressed but he was not awake. Until he was sitting in his car, Lee looking expectantly at him.

"Hm?," Jim had the thought of going to work but she wasn't in her usual clothes. She had a gorgeous sun dress on, which is very weird attire for a gloomy city such as Gotham, but for Metropolis... "ohhh. I'm the one driving you."

"I did ask you this morning and you started getting dressed so," she shrugged.

"Oh no, I don't mind; I just... never mind."

"Thought we were going to work?," she smiled knowingly.

"Yeah..."

* * *

Coming home that night, at a reasonable time no less, was the quietest the apartment ever was. And the loneliest.

Jim had cereal for dinner, not in the mood to try. It felt like he was dumped again, even though he knew he wasn't! He hoped.

Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, a thought occurred to him. He picked up the phone and hit the redial, almost positive that was the last number.

"Hello?," a woman answered.

"Hi, this is Jim Gordon. Are you Kathy, Lee's sister?"

"It's just Kay... but yes," she sounded annoyed.

"Oh, uh, Kay then; may I speak to Lee?"

"Clingy much?," she sassed.

"Excuse me?," Jim asked.

"I don't think she wants to talk to you right now; been a long trip and all. Maybe you'll get this hint, Jimbo. Toodles." The line clicked and the buzz was the only thing to fill the silence. He put the phone back on the receiver.

"What was that about?," a high voice said from the door frame. Jim jumped half a foot with the exclamation of the Christian messiah's name. "Sorry," Selina came into the lamp light with her hand inside a bag of Sun Chips from the kitchen.

"How did you...," he started, "never mind." He sighed, ultimately defeated, rubbing his face roughly.

"What's up, Jim? Who was on the phone?," she came over to him and sat down, stuffing another handful of chips in her mouth.

"Lee's sister," he grumbled.

"Oh," her face scrunched up, "what'd she want?"

"I called her. To talk to Lee," he admitted softly. "I don't know what I did but..."

"She hates you?," Selina finished. Jim nodded. "You and your girlfriend didn't get into a fight before she left, did you?" Jim's eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, I... apologized afterwards." Selina sighed exasperated.

"Lee probably told her sister, then her sister, being protective, hates your guts. I bet she didn't even tell Lee you called 'cause she thinks you're a scumbag."

He waited a few beats before he grumbled a "thanks."

"You're welcome," Selina sang sweetly. "Listen, don't worry about it too much. Maybe she just needs some girl time. At least you know where she went, and is planning on coming back, unlike the last one."

"'Cause I really needed that, Selina," he smiled sardonically.

"Hey, I'm being nice here; you should be paying me for this valuable insight." She took another handful of chips.

"Is there a particular reason that you climbed through my window this evening, or did you just miss me?" She stopped mid-chew.

"Well," she said around the food in her mouth, "Boss wants to see you." He rolled his eyes and laid back down on the bed. "How'd I know you'd be like this?," she asked with a sigh, rolling up the bag.

"What does he want?," Jim's voice rose an octave in exasperation.

"He has a gift for you."

"What is it?"

"A surprise," she smiled at him. "C'mon it'll be fun. Real quick."

"What, like right now?," he asked dramatically.

"Why not?" Jim slapped his forehead with an audible _smack_.

This _can't_ be good.

* * *

AN: This hurt to write btw. I actually like Lee, so far at least. I'm only on ep 5 season two rn. So this is kinda a breakup but not completely, but ya know, Jim kinda went with Lee even though Barbara only said she "needed time" in her letter not "I'm leaving forever, bye," although she did cheat on Jim. But then Jim didn't know about that... and he still went with Lee. It's a huge mess but it's fine.


	8. Chapter Eight: Partners

I was expecting a bigger fight from Jim, but he got dressed and followed me without another question. He complained the entire time but he knew I wasn't gonna tell him anything of importance.

I was nervous about the whole thing. I mostly wanted to get it over with and I volunteered to grab Jim before Ivy could come with me, the pest.

I had a whole mantra to keep me sane: Maybe if Jim rejects Boss's rock, Boss'll finally shut _up_ about him and stop acting so damn weird. And I already told Ivy to get started on an antidote or _else_.

But if he accepted it... no, he wouldn't. Jim wouldn't accept anything from Boss. He didn't even show up to his grand opening of the club. Why would he accept a random rock from a criminal? The one criminal who adores him...

"So...," he started casually. "Can you at least tell me why he wants to give it to me now?" We were a couple blocks away and I mulled over the question, deciding if it was safe to answer.

"You know how he is. He doesn't shut up until he gets what he wants. I said I'd get you now so neither of us has to suffer."

"How _do_ you put up with him?" The question was in between rhetorical and serious.

"Well," I thought aloud, "he's kinda like a brother to me. Sometimes we're like two peas in a pod and the next minute I imagine sewing his lips shut." I reached for the door handle but it swung open before I made contact. Ivy appeared before us with an all too excited grin on her freckled face.

"HE'S HERE," she screamed into the club. She turned back to us with that disturbing smile. "Hi-i, Jim," she swooned. I tried to push past her but she blocked my path. " _I'll_ be the one escorting you to Oz-Boz," she giggled.

"What did you just say?" I had no idea what language she was speaking, let alone how tightly she latched onto Jim's arm. Ivy somehow yanked him inside while he gave me a desperate plea with his eyes. I gave him my most apologetic smile and followed Ivy closely through the club into the back conference room.

Boss was at the head of the table, like usual, and the place had proper lighting for once. It was a little freaky to think about how much appearance in front of Jim mattered.

"Jim," Boss jumped up from his too-big throne with a smile. "I'm so glad you could make it with such short notice."

"I don't have anything better to do," he replied gruffly, a humorless smile creasing his face. Ivy was still holding his arm. I snuck my fingers into her long, red hair, grabbed a handful, and yanked.

"OW!," she squealed. Ivy turned back and glared at me with the creepiest look she could muster. I was tempted to use the baby talk on her.

"Do you really think Boss wants an audience?," I whispered huskily into her ear; well, I missed her ear but the temple's close enough.

"I ain't hurtin anybody, right Mr. Oz?," she tried that sweet charm on him, but he gave her a blank stare. Then he turned to me and I saw the momentary plea.

"We'll get outta ya hair, Boss," I smiled widely. I took a hold of Ivy and ripped her off of Jim. I turned to Jim while holding Ivy arms length away from us. "Be nice to him," I nearly growled. His eyebrows were close to touching and he was about to say something before Ivy started struggling in my grasp. I exited with Ivy after I shot a final firm glance Jim's way.

As soon as we were far enough down the hallway, out of ear shot, I stopped and spun Ivy to face me.

"The hell is your problem, Cat?," she huffed indignantly at me. I raised my index finger to my lips, waiting until she nodded at my command. I walked toward my bedroom door, opened it, and closed it again. I started tiptoeing back down the hall. "Ohh," she sighed in realization. I shot her another glare. Ivy swiftly covered her mouth with her hand and followed my lead.

She lunged more than stalked, not paying any attention to where she was stepping. The floorboards creaked a number of times under her reckless advances. I finally got to the edge of the wall, at which point I grabbed Ivy again and positioned her against the wall next to me.

I pointed to myself with my thumb rather forcefully, then took my index and middle fingers, pointed them at my eyes, and out into the conference room. I couldn't risk them seeing red hair and too-curious eyes. I've snooped on Boss's "business visits" plenty of times before, but I'd never had a partner.

I pulled up my black hood and shoved my dirty blonde curls in there so my own hair wouldn't catch any attention. I was careful to relax my gaze; people could always feel scrutinizing eyes on them. What people couldn't really tell was a disinterested stare. As creepy as it sounds, I'm kind of an expert in the never-being-seen aspect of my job.

Luckily for us, or unluckily for Ivy's tiny attention span, the entire club seemed almost silent. Well, actually the conference room doors were sound proof. Just so, ya know, the patrons of the club wouldn't hear any potential gunshots, and therefore murders. I was nearly capturing the complete conversation when Ivy's patience wore out.

"What's happening?," she whispered a little too loudly for my liking. I grabbed her face, admittedly, roughly, and gave her jaw a firm squeeze to signify my annoyance. I slowly released my grip, making sure there wouldn't be another outburst. She huffed again and sagged against the wall, but she was finally quiet. I started observing the situation before us.

* * *

Jim, truthfully, did not want Selina to leave. He really didn't like being alone with the Penguin. There were only a couple of instances that they were completely alone, as in without one of his henchmen staring Jim down while they chatted about favors.

The first time, although they weren't even alone then, was at the end of the dock. The first day Gotham's truth about the palpable corruption was laid out before Jim's eyes. The first day a man trembled and begged for his life in Jim's arms.

They were alone, in that split second. The little secret he kept from his partner in order to save them both. A conspiracy only they would share.

Until Cobblepot completely ignored his order, and came back to Gotham. He came directly to the detective's apartment, lying about his identity, as if second nature, to Barbara. Then the second time was against the apartment building wall, on the rain stained concrete. Cobblepot wanted oh so desperately to show him his gratitude, to show his usefulness, to be a friend.

Suddenly, it was the third time there was no one else there. No one a part of this conversation, listening in to make sure the _King of Gotham_ got his way.

It frightened Jim. A slick iceberg sat in his chest, dreading what the man could _possibly_ want.

Oswald stood there a moment longer, still smiling at him. Then he remembered his manners.

"Please, sit," he gestured to the chair directly beside him at the table, next to his _throne_. Jim, moving almost on auto-pilot, pulled the chair out of its place and sank onto the smooth, dark wood. God, he was exhausted.

Oswald sat down more gracefully, bending a bit to one side as to keep the pressure off the lame leg. He sighed thoughtfully, studying Jim with a fawning interest. Again.

"So," Jim started quietly, "Selina says you really wanted to give me something." There was no point in formalities. They were nothing more than a business alliance. If even.

He didn't react, keeping his gaze locked on Jim. Jim slowly reached over, put his hand in front of the Penguin's face, and snapped loudly a couple times. He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. "Did she?"

"Yeah, said it couldn't wait till tomorrow," Jim said, a pseudo-smile plastered across his face.

"Well, I'd thought you'd still be up, considering your recent late nights at work and Lee being away," he smiled knowingly. "You'd probably be bored, and all alone. Company helps with both."

"Actually, I'd be sleeping, and alone. Which company does not help with." Jim was on the edge of slurring his words from exhaustion. He felt his eyes closing on their own accord.

"Where's the fun in that?," Oswald murmured quietly. "But, I digress." He reached to the side of him on his throne and held up a rock with a red ribbon tied around it. Jim studied it closely.

"A... rock." He stared up at Oswald incredulously.

Oswald sighed. "Yes, Jim. A rock. I wanted to give you a rock for you are the Charlie Brown of Gotham," he droned sarcastically. Jim leaned forward in his chair and began reaching for his apparent gift. Oswald's eyes became saucers as Jim tentatively picked up the rock and held it in his hand, running his thumb across the smooth surface.

He accepted it. He really truly accepted it. Took it right out of his hand. Oswald felt a piece of himself click into place. Who knew relationships were so damn easy?

"Does it have some double meaning or something?," Jim asked, inspecting the sparkles inside the gray stone.

"It's," his voice was barely audible so he cleared his throat. "It symbolizes our relationship. I found it by the beach. It's original rough edges washed away by the bay so it's become smooth... Like us... And the bay is where we started after all, too," Oswald smiled at the now-fond memory.

Jim offered somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "Neat," he pocketed the gift. "Anything else?"

"Wh-what? Oh, uh, no... Nothing else," Penguin told him softly, almost timid.

Jim smiled curtly and stood up. "See ya round, Penguin."

"Wait!," Oswald shot up, a near-plea in his eyes. "J-just one thing, before you go." He stepped around the table in order to be face to face with the detective. "Every bit of contact we've had, has been you threatening me," he said with a light chuckle. "The only person I've ever hugged is my mother." He took a step closer. "Do you think..."

"Are you seriously asking me for a hug right now?"

"W-well," he spluttered. "We've been through s-so much together and physical contact does relieve-" Jim held up a hand.

"You're making it worse," Jim grumbled, kicking himself for even staying this long. Maybe accepting the rock was trouble some how. Penguin always misinterpreted things, and this rock seemed like a big deal. It wasn't too late to give it back right?

"Please," Oswald whispered. That breath-taking sadness filled his eyes. It always made a small part of Jim melt inside. A small small part that was always trumped by Jim's reason and morals. No matter how much Jim truly wanted to protect the Penguin from the world.

He shouldn't have accepted the gift. He shouldn't be friendly towards the Penguin. Penguin should have been dead! If not by Jim, then the dozens of other powerful people would have shot him down immediately before claiming himself as "King." Now look where he was. In the biggest mob bosses's liar, conversing with said criminal. His charisma even fooled the straightest cop in Gotham.

Jim looked around Oswald's conference room, making extra sure no one was around. It really felt like a trap, but what could Penguin possibly do? Stab him in the back- literally? The only reason Jim met him was because he was a snitch after all. Was this it, was all the favors and friendliness because Penguin wanted to kill Jim after he got all the use out of him?

"How 'bout a handshake?," Jim offered his hand to him, keeping his stance firm but open. Oswald looked away and smiled softly.

"Still don't trust me, Jim. And after all this time together," he gazed back at the detective before him. Oswald took the offered hand. "I will have your trust one day, Jim. Just you wait."

"Um, no offense but," Jim started, nervous all of a sudden. "You're kinda a criminal." Oswald chuckled heartily.

"Indeed. Do be careful with our rock, Jim. It's very special to me," his tone mixed with the signature smile unnerved Jim to no end. The detective swiftly made his exit, but before he completely left the throne room Penguin called, "and do call me Oswald, Jim. We are partners after all."

Jim didn't look back. He really needed some damn sleep.

* * *

AN: I'm sorry if my endings are abrupt? I just like to get them up and not be ridiculously long.

Happy Holidays!


	9. Chapter Nine: Nice Talk, Catch Ya Later

I didn't realize my jaw was hanging open until Ivy closed it for me. This wasn't real. This was just some weird dream with too many variables to be made sense of.

 _What happens now?_ , I asked myself.

Boss beamed proudly, that twinkle of gleeful mischief in his eye. "Oh Selina, sweetheart," he called out in the direction of the hallway. "You can come out now."

I schooled my features into neutrality and stepped into the doorway.

"There you are," he sang to me. "I would say that went pretty well, hm?" When I didn't answer, he glanced behind me. "How about you, Ivy? Any comments, concerns?"

"No, sir," she said softly, stepping up next to me.

"What's wrong, young lady?," he asked as he limped in front of us.

"I-... I'm sorry for spying, Mr. Penguin." She meant it.

"Oh," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, "don't be, please. I'm glad you're learning some tips from my best little cat." He winked at her, "I didn't even know you were there."

Ivy smiled bashfully. "Aw, really?"

"You bet," he tapped her nose softly. He turned to me, "make sure Jim gets home safely, won't you? It'd be a shame if anything were to happen to him," a hint of a threat lurked in his expression.

"Yeah, it would," I was close to growling. I turned and stalked away. It was the worst when he got smug. Not that I don't like him being successful or anything, but his attitude sometimes really ticked me off.

It was cooler than I expected when I walked outside. I slammed the door behind me and strutted in the direction of Jim's apartment. Strangely enough, I saw Jim a couple blocks ahead of me.

I caught up to him easily since he was shuffling along. "Jim? Are you good?," I asked, trying to see his eyes through droopy eyelids.

He grunted at me and turned, "what are you...?" He stopped walking and rubbed his face roughly. "Can you tell me what the hell just happened?" I knew he'd say that.

"Nothing important, Jim. Try not to think about it."

"He's so weird," he shook his head.

"I know. Just...," I didn't wanna talk about it. It was a huge mess. But I had to know. "Why the hell did you do it?," I blurted.

"Do what?," he stared at me.

"Accept the damn rock. If you thought he was annoying then, you're gonna really wanna shoot his brains out now."

"What? What do you-," he pulled out the rock from his pocket and shook it at me. "What does this mean?," he demanded, that cop glare across his face. The red bow was slipping undone, waving in the slight breeze. I reached for it instinctively and he plopped it in my hands.

"Ah!," I nearly threw it at him but he caught it fine. "Don't do that!"

"Why?!," he matched my panicked tone.

"'Cause the rock means something, you idiot!," I yelled at him, shaking my hands for emphasis.

"Then what. The Hell. Does it. Mean?," he grit out, stepping closer to me.

"Have you ever read a book, Jim? Don't you know anything about Penguins?"

"PENGUINS?," he boomed, his voice echoing through the alleyways around us on the street. "WHY WOULD I CARE ABOUT PENGUINS?"

"'CAUSE NOW YOU'RE MARRIED TO ONE," I yelled at him with all the exasperation I held in at the entire situation. "He's been in love with you for the entire time he's known you. He never ever shuts up about you! And then Ivy had to go and ruin my whole life and-" I choked down a sob, my voice raising in pitch, "-and turned him into a real Penguin and he likes her better now and I do _everything_ for him-" I was kinda babbling at this point. I get nervous when people yell at me, okay?

Jim grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eye. "Breathe, Selina," he cooed, voice suddenly soft again. I knew he was a push-over for crying people. "What about Ivy?"

"What _about_ that evil ginger?" To be fair, I was upset. She'd never know what I said anyway.

"I mean is she still in love with me or was that a cover for Penguin?"

"Well," I faltered. I wiped my eyes roughly. "Yeah, it was. But I wasn't lying about her tryin to run Lee outta town. She... wants you two together." I mumbled most of it but he understood me just fine, judging by the shock on his face.

"Like... me with... Oswald?" I nodded. It was the first time I heard Jim call Boss by his actual name. "I... wow."

"Hey, I tried telling her it could never happen. Honest. She's just crazy," I shrugged.

"How in the world would..." Jim was the epitome of despair. "Why me?" I sighed.

"You're nice to him. No one's nice to him. Well, except his goons, but they just want the money. You don't." He looked at his feet again, breathing heavily. "You're special, Jim. Everyone knows it. You're the prize he can't have. But in his head, that rock," I pointed at his hand, "means he owns you now."

He studied the rock again, its deep sparkles glittering in the street lights. The cogs were turning in his head, trying to come up with some kinda way to get rid of it. I saw the resentment in his eyes.

Blackmail. Boss still could've used that guy's death as blackmail when Jim got the money. I could tell he didn't wanna even talk to Boss, let alone upset him by refusing the "gift."

"What do I do then?," he asked softly, the wind ruffling his blond locks dramatically.

I sighed, "c'mon, I'll tell you while we're walking, okay? It's freezin out here." I walked in front, my heels clicking on the pavement. I had to slow down a couple times for his sake, but we both rushed into the apartment building and out of the cold.

* * *

I went for the stairs and he went for the elevator. He pushed the button, then threw me a weird look.

"Where ya going?," he called across the lobby.

"I hate elevators," I called back, leaning over the railing.

"Why?," he asked incredulously.

"'Cause I do," I said, mirroring his look. I took the steps two at a time, easily beating him to his door. I could've picked the lock but I wasn't feelin it. He finally walked up next to me, fumbling with his keys. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry I don't spider-jump up the stairs," he mumbled and opened the door for me.

"I'm not a spider. I'm a cat," I said matter-of-factly.

"Ri-ight. I forget that's what the street kids call you."

"It's not just a street name. It's my Boss Name," I put my hands on my hips for emphasis. He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Boss name, you say?"

"Yeah. Like my Boss is The Penguin. I'm The Cat."

"Alright," he said, nodding slightly. "Now, who, in your _business_ per se, calls you that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?," I sassed at him and plopped onto his couch.

"Oh, ya know," he sat down next to me. "Criminals, mob bosses, Italian mafia who traveled too far west." Jim turned to me. "The usual." I smiled at the comment.

"What d'ya mean 'too far west'?," I asked him genuinely.

"All the Italians are usually on the East Coast. They dominate New Jersey."

I snorted. "Oh yeah?"

His eyebrow went up and he squinted his eyes. "Ever heard of a guido?," he tried to do an Italian accent. Key word: tried.

"A what?," I giggled.

"Never mind," he shook his head and waved it off with a hand. He stared at me for a minute, smiling softly. "Thank you... for walking me home."

"Eh, don't mention it. It was pretty stuffy in there after you left," I said off-handedly. He studied me this time, and I knew he read my mind in that Jim Gordon way of his.

"Was Ivy getting more attention than you?" Damn cop and his detective-ness. God, he always was a pain. "That's what you were crying about earlier."

"Crying? No, no, no, no, I was not _crying_. More, letting my frustration out through my eye sweat." Jim was momentarily confused but then he laughed. Like, he actually laughed. The sound unnerved me at the same time as amazed me. It was hard to find a real laugh that wasn't psychotic nowadays.

He leaned back after his chuckling subsided, his head hanging off the back of the couch. The bags under his eyes were purple and his frown lines dragged his face past his chin. Despite all that, he really was handsome. It was incredibly unfair that such a good guy was stuck in Gotham...

Stuck in Gotham.

"You should see Lee," I blurted. The cogs in my brain were turning aloud. "Get out of Gotham, Jim." I saw the concern and confusion in his eyes. "Just until Ivy makes the antidote."

"What antidote?," he asked softly.

I almost growled when the whole situation popped back into my head. "Long story short, Ivy poisoned the- my Boss. He's been acting really weird lately and I'm pretty sure that that poison is the reason." I let him see the worry on my face. "Its mutating him, Jim."

"I'm sure he's gonna be fine. You know he's naturally weird, right? Maybe he's getting more comfortable around you." I wanted to tell him about the... extra appendage, but I would've sounded crazy! Maybe I _was_ going insane... "And I can't see Lee," he commented sadly.

"Why not?" It seemed ridiculous that he couldn't see his own significant other. Whenever I wanted to, I could sneak into Wayne Manor and find Bruce. He'd always have that huge smile on whenever he saw me. Granted, he never could come see me, but it was better that way. Safer that way.

"She doesn't wanna see me," the exhaustion was really taking a toll on him. His eyes were glossy and his voice was so quiet.

"Sure she does. Maybe she wants to be chased. And you don't gotta stay in Metropolis forever. You can visit, and then come home." He ruminated over my words for a minute or two, sinking deeper into the wide cushions.

"Lee doesn't want to live in Gotham anymore. She's been hinting at moving for a while now. Something in my gut tells me she's not coming back." He looked at me and I finally saw the tears threatening to fall.

"Jim, of course she doesn't wanna stay in Gotham-," his eyebrows creased at that, "- no sane person does. That's how ya know she's a good person. She doesn't wanna be stuck in the loony bin anymore."

"But she used to work in Arkham," he interrupted.

"Those were a bunch of harmless...," I waved my hand in a rolling motion, trying to find the right word. I groaned slightly when I gave up on that sentence. "The murderers are popping up, Jim. And there's a fuckin ton of 'em." A spark of authority flashed in his eyes at my swear but he didn't bother going down that road.

"I know..." He sighed. "Don't I know." He looked so depressed that it was starting to bum _me_ out.

"Listen," I caught his attention and sat up a bit. "If she really likes you, she'll come back." I smiled reassuringly. "I know this is kinda bad and one-sided or whatever, but I do the same with Bruce. He can't usually find me or reach out to me 'cause of my job and stuff, so I go to him. And he's always so happy to see me and tries to give me presents... he's a great guy, and I really like him. So I keep coming back."

Jim looked at me thoughtfully. "You still haven't told him, have you?" There was that chastising tone. I always got so defensive when he got like that.

"Why would I?," I hissed.

"Selina, you shouldn't keep secrets in a relationship. You want this to work, right?"

"That's exactly why I can't tell him. I don't want him to think I'm some," I flared my hand again. "Criminal." Jim gave me a knowing look. "What?," I snapped.

"Isn't that your thing? Stealing? He knows you steal." My words finally caught up with me.

"Well, that's not what I meant. I meant not a _bad_ criminal." He shot me a blank stare. "Not all criminals are bad, Jim!"

"Then why are they called criminals?"

"'Cause the system's corrupt and stupid and doesn't help people like me." Jim was about to object at that, then deflated.

"I'm workin' on it, okay? Not easy all by myself," he mumbled and rubbed his face roughly.

"What about that partner of yours? Doesn't he help?" Personally, his partner looked more like a hobo than a cop, but that's just me.

"Of course he helps, and Essex, Lee, and Ed help out too. I wouldn't get anything done without them. And now Essex is the commissioner and there's new promising candidates for mayor." He turned to me again. "We're getting there."

I knew he was trying. I always did. From the moment we met, the moment I heard of _Jim_ _Gordon_ , I knew he was gonna be the difference. He did save me after all. A thought occurred to me.

"Wait, who the hell's Ed?"

"You've seen him. Tall, black hair, glasses. He's our entire forensics department practically," he mumbled, eyes slipping close.

"Ohhh. Yeah, I remember." There were a few beats of silence before Jim's breathing became slow and steady. I slipped off the couch and stalked towards the hallway closet. I opened it agonizingly slow and pulled out the comforter they gave to me when I passed out on their couch. I walked back to Jim quietly and pull the comforter up to his chin.

I watched his shoulders rise and fall with every breath. Not creepily, obviously. He just looked so peaceful. I locked the door and squeezed myself out his window, shutting it up tight.

At the end of the day, after everything he did for Gotham, Jim deserved some peace.


	10. Chapter Ten: My Little Cobblepot

Jim woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. Before he even opened his eyes, he cringed. He made himself sit up from his reclined position on the couch. He rubbed the knots out of his neck but wasn't so lucky with his back.

How'd he even get on the couch?

The phone kept ringing. He shoved himself up and shuffled to the offending piece of technology.

"Jim Gordon," he grumbled into the receiver.

"Ya know, for a Boy Scout, you really don't pay attention to attendance," Harvey's matter-of-fact tone answered him. Jim thought over his partner's words then squinted at the clock.

"Shit," he commented smartly.

"Uh huh. See ya in ten," with that Harvey hung up.

Jim threw on some clothes, and although the dress shirt was wrinkling, he thought it looked pretty okay. He accidentally grabbed his black coat while wearing navy blue trousers. He wasn't even going to think about his socks.

He hopped in his car and pushed the speed limit a few miles.

When he stepped into the G.C.P.D., the whole bullpen shot him a sideways glance. Jim smiled awkwardly and walked to his desk, catching Harvey's worried look. Jim collapsed in his black leather chair.

"Uh, Jim?," Harvey asked softly across their desks. Jim hummed in response. "What's up with you?" Jim opened his eyes to see his partner's eyebrows were drawn together. Jim closed his eyes again.

"I'm good, Harv. Quit worrying. Someone's gonna talk."

"Everyone in this goddamn place talks. The hell's going on, Jim? Where's Lee?" Jim sighed through his nose at the inevitable question.

"With her sister, or at least I think that's where she is," Jim answered softly.

"She has a sister?," Harvey asked, his perverted smirk playing on his lips.

"Yep," Jim popped the "p." "In Metropolis." Harvey scrunched his nose at that.

"Total bitch, huh?" Jim hummed in the affirmative. "Why is Lee there?"

"Just a visit," Jim answered, not even convincing himself.

"Jesus, Jim. I'm sorry," Harvey said, and he meant it too. Jim shrugged.

"No one wants to deal with all shit I go through except me. Just a matter of time before I'm retired and alone."

"You? Retired? That's a thought, ain't it?" Harvey didn't laugh at his joke, but Jim smiled.

"I'm gonna be ninety before I consider it."

Harvey chuckled at that.

"You'll get all the way to Commissioner and only pass on the baton to your son, James Gordon Jr." Jim laughed heartily.

"'Commissioner' doesn't mean 'King,' ya know."

"Neither does 'President' but look who's in office," Harvey grumbled. Jim chuckled again.

"Why do you hate Bush so much?," he asked.

"You don't wanna go there, kid," Harvey warned before taking a sip of his coffee. Ed appeared suddenly, as he usually does, with a strangely concerned look on his face.

"Detective?," Ed asked Jim, making sure he had his undivided attention before he continued.

"Yes, Ed?," Jim lifted his head from his chair and looked at the young man before him.

"May I inquire about the whereabouts of Dr. Thompkins?" Ed looked like a lost puppy.

"She's in Metropolis. Visiting her sister," Jim repeated.

"Is she-," Ed swallowed nervously. "Is she coming back?"

"Aw, the little nerd's gotta crush on the lady doctor. Told ya he'd steal her, Jim."

"I do not have a-a crush on Dr. Thompkins. I'm merely worried over my partner- in science!," he corrected quickly, not being able to stop the blush dusting his cheeks. Ed put his head down and scampered back to the medical examination room. As soon as Ed was out of earshot, Jim turned to Harvey.

"Why do ya gotta be such an ass to the kid?"

"Who, me?," Harvey asked, eyes full of pseudo-innocence. "Never harmed a hair on his little head." Jim gave him his trademark sneer. "And besides, that was a compliment. He's a real lady killer," Harvey chuckled at his own comment. Jim sighed moodily.

"I bet Ed would know how to make a woman stay."

"Wow, now you're makin me depressed. Maybe ladies just don't like ya, Jimbo."

"Thanks, Harv," Jim grumbled, with his sardonic smile.

"I'm just saying. With the way you and Penguin stare at each other, I wouldn't be surprised."

"What?"

Harvey sighed, "Nothing, Jim. Don't worry about it."

"Well, now I'm worrying about it," Jim said, finally sitting up fully and leaning his elbows on his desk.

"Jim," Harvey started clearly. "You know how Penguin feels about you. _Has_ felt about you," he amended. "And I'm pretty sure everyone knows you have a soft spot for him." After a few moments of silence, and Jim retrieving his jaw from the floor, he continued, "if you wanna keep denying it for the rest of your life, then I'm not gonna stop ya. Just know that I support you either way."

Jim was, to say the least, shell-shocked. It didn't even sound like a joke from Harvey's tone, and this should've been a joke, right?

"I'm not gay, Harv," Jim exasperated.

"Who said ya were? I'm just saying _'live your life'_ and you're puttin' words in my mouth."

"Well, you're making me sound gay. Which I am not."

"Okay."

"I'm not gay, Harvey," he restated firmly, his voice feigning certainty.

"Okay," Jim's partner said again. Harvey opened the Manila folder containing the details of the most recent homicide of Gotham City. It was rather tame in comparison to the usual psychopaths' activities, and Harvey already had a guess as to who the murderer was. Of course, Harvey didn't really start analyzing it just then, knowing Jim's Quest For Truth by now.

"What on Earth persuaded you to believe that The Penguin has had romantic feelings towards me?"

"Interesting choice," Harvey said to profile before him. If Jim couldn't tell he was referring to him picking Penguin's feelings over his own protectiveness of the criminal, then that was on Jim.

"What?"

"Nothing," Harvey sighed. He looked up from the victim's discolored eyes and into Jim's blues. "He lights up when he sees you. You ever notice that?," he asked softly.

"So? He wants friends. I don't think he ever learned how to make any so he clings to possible friends," Jim broke his gaze and started clicking his pen. Harvey smiled at that.

"I've never seen anyone that happy to see a friend before." Jim stopped his clicking. "But, what do I know? He's a strange little guy, and he managed to become top dog in the crime world." Harvey shrugged. After a beat, Jim started clicking again.

Jim already knew Oswald liked him. Known it since the beginning. When Jim went out back that day at Fish Mooney's club, he saw the strange man and how his eyes roamed. It was a split second, but Jim knew enough to feel self-conscious. Penguin had looked happy to see him then too, almost, or maybe it the baseball bat with still-drying blood in his hands. That was the thing with Penguin; he was a double-sided time-bomb.

When he strutted (with a limp) into Barbara's apartment, he had a grin of triumph at seeing Jim again. A small, _very_ small, part of Jim that day was relieved to see him too. He was okay- and alive so Jim could not be fairly arrested for a crime that didn't even happen.

Even after that, Jim still got special treatment. But why?

Jim reached into his pocket and grabbed the gift from Oswald. He set it on his desk for Harvey to see. Harvey's eyebrows went up.

"What's that, Jim?," he asked across their desks.

"A gift from my little Cobblepot," Jim said with a pseudo-sweet tone, then scowled. Harvey chuckled.

"Aw, he proposed and you said yes. What a sucker; never took ya as the marrying type, Jim. Actually, scratch that. You look like the divorcing type to me," Harvey laughed again.

"What the hell does that mean?," Jim asked, annoyed that everyone knew so damn much about penguins and their love lives.

"C'mon, Jim that's like... first grade stuff. Penguins give the purdiest rock they find and give it to their honeys. It's not any different than a ring for us." Harvey pointed at the rock then leaned in conspicuously, "you got Penguin'ed."

"Can you do me a favor and never fucking say that again?," Jim said flatly. Harvey bursted out laughing. "Seriously, Harv, what the hell am I gonna do?"

"About Penguin? Just play along with it to make him happy. I doubt he'll try anything stupid. Hell, he probably doesn't know how romantics work anyhow."

"I don't want to be in a relationship with him, real to me or not."

"Well, suck it up, Buttercup. If you break his heart and he doesn't wanna help us catch the _other_ bad guys, then we're shit outta luck. You gotta pretend to like him for Gotham, Jim. It's gonna be like Henry VIII and Catherine; ya gotta marry so France and Spain don't blow the other up."

"Henry VIII was the king of England," Jim corrected with a furrowed brow.

"Whatever. Just be nice to the guy. Deal?" Jim thought over the suggestion.

"As long as you start being nice to Ed, then sure," Jim proposed nonchalantly.

"I am nice to the kid," Harvey argued. Jim gave him a blank stare. "Alright, alright, I'll try," he relented. "But if he sneaks up on me one more time, I'm gonna lose it." Jim smiled at the memory.

 _"Do you like video games?"_

 _"Ed, don't ever do that again."_

* * *

AN: pseudo means fake for anyone curious.  
Obviously I gotta develop Jim's feelings through this whole ordeal.  
Idk what I'm gonna do with Ed.

I'm honestly not sure where to take the Gobblepot-ness now though. I do have ideas but they're probs stupid:

1\. Oswald asks Ivy to turn him into a woman- one night stand with Jim- Oswald lays an egg :0!

2\. Jim visits Lee every weekend borrowing penguin's money, in return Jim has to pay him with kisses (escalates)

3\. Literal dates? Like traditional build up?

It would mean the world to me to hear your input BC I'm writing it for y'all after all.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Lucky

AN: don't hate me but this chapter isn't about Gobblepot or Selina. We will get back to them obvi but an idea popped into my head and well, here ya are. And yes they're OOC.

* * *

The sound of heels clicking against the cold, unforgiving floor echoed throughout the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The only logical way for those heels to be that loud is that the Arkham psychiatrist decided to wear obnoxious pumps instead of her usual flats. That, or there was a new arrival.

Every deranged and braindead man inside of the recreational area turned as the blonde woman walked past. Her sun hat flopped with each step and her expensive-looking trench coat swayed behind her thighs. The clicking stopped.

She turned to the recreational area through the bars, then slid her sunglasses down to get a better look. As soon as the security guard carrying her luggage caught up with her, she kept moving with her head held high.

She soon joined them, wearing her own striped jumpsuit and reading a magazine. She luckily got the more tolerable uniform. The pants flowed around her ankles instead of suffocating them, giving her that elegant heir she was born with. The waistband pressed her stomach down to make her look skinner than she actually was and the loose top helped with what she couldn't hide.

A flow of red hair popped into view above the magazine, catching the woman's eye and making her put down the reading material. She stared at the boy before her, a twinge of sadness at how young and sweet he looked. Then her newly awakened side took over.

"Looking for something?," she commented rudely at the sadistic smile the red head had on. He abruptly shot his hand towards her, to which she calmly stayed still and waited for the inevitable hit. But it never came.

"Name's Jerome. What's yours?," he giggled softly, like setting her up for a prank. The woman looked at him again and saw his hand in the welcoming position to shake hands. She raised her magazine up again.

"Barbara," she said nonchalantly. Jerome retracted his hand.

"So, what are ya in here for, Barbara?," he stifled another laugh.

"Killed my parents," she told him in the same disinterested tone. He gasped.

"Hey! Me too! Well, just my mom... so far," he laughed lowly at the thought. Jerome ceased his laughs, but continued smiling unnervingly. She still felt his eyes on her. She looked up at him and plastered her best fake smile on. His smile dropped and pointed over the men on the other side of the table. "He likes you, ya know. A girl like you could get hurt around here." Barbara kept her smile.

"I won't be here for long."

"Oooo," Jerome said and cackled creepily. "That's a new one," he stopped laughing. "Not." Barbara couldn't help but scowl.

"I don't think anyone else has the kind of family I do in this hellhole." Jerome snorted but covered his mouth tightly with a hand. He composed himself.

"How are ya gonna do anything without a phone?," he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Barbara furrowed her brow. This kid knew something that she didn't.

She put the magazine flat on the table and leaned forward. He leaned forward too.

"You wouldn't happen to know where a lady could get a phone, would you, Jerome?," she asked sweetly. He smiled again but this time was almost... bashful.

"Well, anything for a pretty lady," he giggled boyishly. "See that man over there," he jerked his head towards the end of the table again. A certain man did poke out of the crowd. He obviously held himself higher than the people surrounding him and had piercing blue eyes. "He can help ya. But I gotta warn ya, he probably wants something in return." Jerome bit his bottom lip as his eyes wandered down her small frame. Barbara refrained from hitting him upside the head.

"Thanks, Jay," she reached out and squeezed his hand. Surprise took over the young man's features, the sinister act completely dropping.

Barbara got up and sashayed over to the tall blue-eyed man. He looked up from his novel. Before he could greet her, she moved his hands out the way and sat on his lap.

"A little birdy," she purred with a wide grin, "told me that you can give me what I want." The man smirked.

"My, my, what a pretty little thing you are," his deep voice reverberated through her body as he grabbed her waist. _A nice, strong grip_ , she thought. _Good_. The thought excited her. Oh, how she _missed_ Jason...

* * *

She grasped onto the hard plastic phone and sighed happily. She picked it up and punched in the numbers she knew by heart. She held it to her ear with a wide smile.

The other line picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?," the woman's soothing voice answered.

"Hey, Aunt Susie, how are you,?," Barbara asked sweetly.

"Barbara, Sweetheart, where are you? I tried calling your apartment and I haven't received your callback," Susan Kean, Barbara's aunt on her father's side, said, letting the subtle annoyance seep into her voice.

"Oh, Auntie...," Barbara sniffled. "I'm in the looney bin!," she cried into the receiver.

"I know that, darling, I was being facetious," Sue said in the same tone

"Then why'd you ask?," Barbara snapped. Admittedly in her current psychological state, she really didn't have a filter.

"Because you only ever call me when you need something. Trying to break out, are we?"

"It's not _breaking_ out. It's paying out," Barbara answered as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Sue hummed. "C'mon, Auntie, I didn't do anything wrong!" And Barbara believed it too. Sue didn't say anything for what seemed like forever.

"I know," she said softly. That... surprised Barbara. She didn't know what to say after that, so Sue continued. "Your father was a harsh man. He never treated anyone right, not even his little girl. And I never liked your mother anyway."

"I...," Barbara fumbled with her words, trying to get past the lump in her throat. "You know what they did?," she asked softly.

"I know enough. I'm sorry." Barbara felt a genuine tear slip down her cheek. She never told a soul, except for Lee. She sniffled and wiped her nose.

"Will you help me?," her act dropped, the resentment and pain showing. Sue sighed.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

The month she had spent in Arkham so far had felt like a hundred years. It wasn't even that bad, treatment wise, but it was all so _boring_. Even the man with the blue eyes, Rick or whatever, was becoming a bore. He wasn't aggressive during sex anymore, but _cuddled_ her afterwards. She shivered in disgust at the thought.

The red-headed boy, Jerome, was the most interesting thing there. He was far from shy, and nearly always made her smile. He loved playing twenty questions.

"Why so serious, Babs?," he would usually ask her. Barbara sighed.

"I think I'm losing my mind," she answered tiredly. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Some say we're already there," he commented, his voice uncharacteristically soft. She looked at him and for the first time, she _saw_ him. He had freckles littered across his face that were the same color as his tall hair. His lips were bright pink and his eyes were that confusing blue-green that nobody knew what the true color was. His jawline was in between soft and defined. He was cute. A little too cute...

"How old are you?," she asked suddenly. He blinked.

"Well," he grinned. "I'm the perfectly ripe age of eighteen," he drawled. "How old are _you?_ " She narrowed her gaze at him.

"Twenty-eight," she relented. His eyes widened.

"Really?," he asked, genuinely curious. It was the boyish wonder again, not the homicidal craziness.

"Mhm," she hummed. A beat of silence passed between them, one regarding the other carefully.

"Why did you kill your parents?," he asked, his voice soft again. She held her head high.

"Because they deserved it," she told him quietly.

"Did they beat you?," he asked, never breaking eye contact. She wanted to look away but couldn't, so she tilted her head slightly.

"No." He didn't have an immediate follow up question again. She finally pulled her gaze away.

"They didn't want you, did they?," he tilted his own head. There was no malice in his eyes, and that realization hurt more than it should have. She couldn't stop the tears from forming and decided to let them fall. Jerome got up suddenly, probably uncomfortable around a crying woman, but then sat directly next to her, looking at her with a tenderness she had no idea he could have.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and her face crumpled. She covered her face with a dainty, manicured hand. He moved even closer, patting her shoulder gently. She moved her hand away from her mouth and looked at the boy in front of her. He was afraid to hug her, to get true affection. She whimpered sympathetically and hugged the boy next to her. He completely froze in her arms until she stroked his perfect red hair. He held her cautiously and she stopped crying.

He was like her, she then realized. Tormented by neglectful parental figures, beaten until they hated themselves. This was going to change, and Barbara would be the start. The only thing she needed help with was getting out of Arkham.

"Barbara Kean," the guard called from the entrance of the recreational area.

"Yes, sir?," she called back, wiping the last of her tears off her lashes.

"Today's your lucky day," the guard drawled sarcastically.

* * *

AN: I'm gonna be honest with you, I wrote this whole thing today. I actually really enjoyed writing about Barb and Jay, idk why. I kinda love-hate them, but that's the strongest love of all.

How'd ya feel about this chap/couple? Is it out of place in this story and I should start something new with this? Or is it okay to combine it into one big ol thing? It would be connected eventually.

But if I don't see you again, happy Valentine's Day!


	12. Chapter Twelve: Unexpected Guest

It was the second time that month that I didn't wake up in my own room.

Instead I was on a king sized bed with a heavy blue comforter hugging me. I never slept so good in my life. Just enough light came through the decorative shades and I suddenly remembered where I was.

' _He put me in the guest room_ ,' I thought to myself. I smiled and threw off my covers. He had even given me silk pajamas. The guy knows how to treat a lady, but yet again I always knew that.

For such a big place such as Wayne Manor, the set up was a piece of cake. I knew exactly how to get to Bruce's favorite room.

I used the door this time. Alfred woulda been so proud. I walked in to find Bruce slowly munching on his breakfast; his eyes were nearly closed in contentment. I sat next to him and put my arm around his shoulders.

"Hey," I greeted softly, like I didn't wanna break his adorable drowsiness.

"Hey," he said back around a mouthful of food. He offered me a piece of toast and I gladly took it. I munched on it happily and he snuggled his head into the crook of my neck.

"Thanks for putting me in a room this time," I mumbled into his black curls.

"You're welcome," he said smugly. He lifted his head up. "Why did you come last night- not to say I don't enjoy your company- but something's always up when you pass out on top of me...," he asked softly, the ghost of a smirk gracing his lips. I couldn't help but blush at his phrasing.

"I...," I started lamely then sighed. "It's complicated, Bruce... I was being," I flailed my hand a bit, "dramatic." His eyebrows furrowed.

"What happened?," he prodded gently. I looked away at the question, afraid he'd see the answer in my eyes before I got a say in the matter.

"Just... Ivy," I answered simply and turned back to him with a curtesy smile. Bruce chuckled. I never realized how deep Bruce's voice had gotten over the time I've known him.

"What did the scary, little ginger do this time?," he asked knowingly.

"She thinks she can do better than me at my job," I said sassily. "Like um, no, bitch, you can't." I waved my index finger around to emphasize my point. He chuckled again.

"Show her who's boss, Babe," he told me and gave me a kiss on the cheek as he stood up. He grabbed his empty plates and left the room, his blanket flowing like a cape behind him.

I usually slept over when I'd swing by. It was nice actually. I mostly got the couch, which was still much more comfortable than the boxes and ripped duvets I usually slept on when I was on the streets.

After the whole rock-giving incident, I stayed with Bruce for about a week or so. It was nice in Wayne Manor, but very different than I was used to.

I didn't feel like going back for a while. What was the point? Teach Ivy everything I know and have her replace me? As if.

Everything nice The Penguin ever said to me was to make sure I was a good little minion. Why would he care about a stray like me?

My thoughts never felt that hopeless before. It was a rather shocking feeling. Sure, I felt sad sometimes. I've cried a lot and I've been alone a lot, but I've never been so... depressed. Or maybe I have been all along, and Bruce's company is tearing me down.

My emotions were always strong around Bruce. He was really cute, and I made that bet about him hitting me with bread for me. I wanted to kiss him. I wasn't gonna tell him that, obviously. I couldn't be weak.

Then I started living at Penguin's place and seeing Bruce more and more. I had gotten weak from it- from being surrounded by comfort. I didn't even need to scavenge on my own. I didn't need to steal anymore! But I did. If I didn't steal, I wouldn't be Cat anymore. That thought scared me more than anyone else could understand.

That's why I couldn't live with Bruce. I'd be Selina Kyle. No more freedom or anonymity. I'd have to go to school and talk to awful rich kids. I couldn't talk to my old friends; I'd lose all my connections. They'd leave me all behind because I turned into a goody-goody and wouldn't be Cat anymore. I wouldn't be Cat ever again.

The door opened, revealing a dressed up Bruce Wayne. He always wanted to look his best for me, even after ever morning I saw him look like the average hobo.

This particular afternoon though, he gave me the _look_. The one when you see an animal left out in the cold; _Pity_. If I could scratch out every eye that turned pity onto me, I would. I was not some pity-party, charity, or God damn excuse to collect more taxes. I was a girl living my best life. A _woman_ living my best life, and no, I don't plan on changing, thank you very much. I love the way I am.

I was about to express these thoughts to Bruce, as he really loves taking my verbal abuse, but he kneeled down right in front me. I was stunned to silence as he lifted a hand tentatively towards my cheek and wiped my trail of tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Anything else you'd like to share with me?," he whispered gently. The filtering sunlight from my favorite window illuminated his face. His eyes glowed whiskey instead of his beautiful brown.

I practically jumped him. I slid my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He was stunned at first, but he slowly melted into my touch, especially when I ran my fingers through his black curls. With one hand on my back, he pushed me flush against him, his other hand steadying us on the couch. We pulled back for air after a minute but stayed in our position.

"Noted," he said breathily. I couldn't help but grin at the cheesy remark. I moved my mouth next to his ear.

"I have to go," I said softly.

"Okay," he answered in my own ear. I giggled reflexively. Neither of us moved.

"Bruce."

"Yep?"

"You're kinda on top of me." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Seriously?," I drawled.

"Yep," he answered. He expertly scooped me up and settled me on his hips while standing. When the hell did he get so strong?

He made the kissy face at me, the plea in his chocolate orbs. I rolled my eyes but kissed him again. I loved kissing him. He finally put me down.

"See ya 'round, Bruce," I saluted as I waltzed to my favorite window and opened the glass doors.

"Already miss you, Selina," he teased with a pout. Then I climbed out and away.

I had to go back. I couldn't leave the guy at the drop of a hat... even though I never usually say goodbye. He never had many friends... not truly.

I felt guilty for planning to leave. I never felt guilty for anything. Not when I yelled at Bruce and broke his heart, not when I pushed that Scottish guy out the window, and certainly not when I told off Alfred after he smacked me in the face.

But Penguin... _Boss_ was different. He really was sensitive; I could see it in his eyes. He always hid his true feelings; he was good at that. In his- _our_ \- line of work, you had to be two-faced. That's how we lived, how we moved up in the world. I don't blame him for it and I never questioned him.

I'd have to ease out of the job, find an excuse somehow.

My best friend Bridgett popped into my head then. She had to find excuses to escape her fire-crazy brothers. She always managed to get away. She was smart like that.

' _That's it_ ,' I thought as I jumped the rooftops of Gotham to get back to the club. ' _Bridge could help me. All I need to do is check in first_.'

I waltzed into the club like I owned the place, as usual, but the sight before me glued my boots to the shiny tile.

Jim Gordon stood before me, hands on his hips as if waiting a while. He looked at me and forced a smile.

"Selina, its good to see you," he said softly into the stiff air. I didn't say a word. He looked at his shoes then, his breathing the only noise in the room. He didn't look up when he said, "Selina... we need to talk."

* * *

AN: oooooo a clifhangerrrrr. at least an attempt at one. may be a little choppy considering I tried to skip a week or so.

also, I made Selina and Bruce a few years older just so it wouldn't be creepy to write about their relationship. everyone else is basically in season two.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Here We Go Again

AN: my sincerest apologies for not updating sooner. I have three more chapters ready after this one but it's more of a process for than it is for wattpad. Hope you guys didn't give up on me yet!

* * *

Harvey was convinced that Jim was living the men's locker room again. He was there before Harvey, which actually wasn't that surprising, and stayed after Harvey turned in for the day. That was a little concerning.

Jim always dropped Lee off at home at the end of her shift, and a lot of the times he stayed with her. Now it was as if there wasn't a reason to go home. Well, Lee's apartment.

Harvey remembered the depressing time after Barbara left. Jim was so worn down and sad. It was depressing to even think about. Harvey never wanted to see his partner like that again.

Yet here he was, looking like a kicked golden retriever puppy. It was locker-room time all over again, except this time would be different. Harvey knew just the thing.

The slap of papers made Jim look up from his cross word puzzle.

"Riddle me this, Jimbo," Harvey repressed a smirk at his partner's surprise at the words.

"Case?," Jim asked hopefully.

"Yep, and a pretty wacky one at that," he assured and Jim sighed like he was _relieved_ at a weird Gotham crime to solve. Harvey sat down heavily in his swivel chair. "Well, it's the beginning of a case." Jim's eyebrows furrowed. "Just look at the damn file already." Jim did as he was told, his skeptical expression remaining. Harvey sighed, annoyed.

"A... riddle?," Jim asked softly.

"A clue. To some," Harvey waved his hand around, "crime." He leaned forward so Jim could hear him better. "But I'm no good at riddles, Jim, you know that. Can ya figure it out for me?"

Jim looked like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it. He looked down at the open Manila folder, the sheet of printer paper unfolded with cut out words from a magazine plastered on it.

The off-setting words spelled:

"eveN though it comes in a can

ThYs is somethinG you shouldn't eat

Instead you add it to the wall

To Make a room look really neAt."

"Well, the answer is paint," Jim answered absentmindedly. Harvey snapped his fingers, catching Jim's attention.

"I got it. Vandalism. _Spray_ paint, huh?," Harvey suggested confidently, nodding his head. Jim blinked.

"Um. I don't ever mean to downplay your ideas, Harv, but do you really think vandals are gonna send a note to the GCPD about what they're doing?," Jim asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, what else could it be?," Harvey tried not to grumble, but he did. Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. Then a certain forensic scientist came into view.

"What's black and white and read all over?," Ed asked, somewhat on edge. His usual smile that accompanied the riddles was replaced by a worried frown.

"Newspaper," Jim answered reflexively. "What's wrong, Ed?" Ed answered the detective by pulling the answer to his riddle from behind his back and gave it to Jim.

"BARBARA KEAN FREED"

Jim's heart crashed into the floor. There she was, smiling up at him with a sanity certificate held in front of her proudly. Right next to her, a young man held an identical certificate without his usual sinister smile. Jim stood abruptly, startling his two coworkers.

"Is this some kind of joke?," Jim hissed and slammed the paper onto Harvey's desk. He leaned over his desk with his arms as support, trying to calm his breathing. Harvey took the paper in one hand and his coffee in the other. His eyes widened as he took a long sip.

"Well, I'll be damned," Harvey said to himself. Jim plopped back down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hey, at least Lee's safe and outta town, right?" He knew he shouldn't have said that, but he really doesn't have a filter. Jim pinched his nose harder.

Ed squinted at the folder on Jim's desk, noticing the riddle almost immediately and picking it up. His lips moved along with the words and he simply said, "Paint," to no one in particular.

"Yeah, we got that, Ed. But do ya know what it means?," Harvey drawled. Ed stared off into the distance, thinking for a moment.

"Perhaps...," he started softly. "Perhaps, it is referring to the Gotham City Art District. An art gallery of sorts?," Ed suggested.

"Barbara used to own an art gallery there," Jim mentioned, the cogs in his mind turning.

"Says here that she got her job back," Harvey said while reading the rest of the article. Jim's mouth pressed into a straight line and he straightened out his (matching this time) dress pants.

"I'll bet anything that Jerome was the one to send the riddle," he growled. Jim stood again and stomped around his desk with a mumbled, "let's go."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold it right there, Boy Scout," Harvey swiveled to face Jim at the stairs, successfully stopping his partner. "You're not playing hero today, Junior."

"I'm not playing hero, I'm being a cop- a detective- ya know, my _job?_ ," Jim snapped. Harvey only smiled.

"You really don't think I know you by now? I know exactly what you'll do. You'll go charging in there, _demand_ to see Barbara and the ginger, and even if they're completely cooperative, you'll knock Jerome's lights out for the hell of it." As Harvey predicted, Jim deflated.

"You make me sound like a thug," Jim whined.

"Well, when you're pissed, you are one," Harvey said truthfully. "Why are you so pissed anyway?"

"Because criminals escaped, Harvey! Weather or not it was legally, they're still insane and you know it. And I would not 'knock Jerome's lights out for the hell of it.'"

"But you'd demand to see Barbara." Jim mouth opened and closed, then looked away pouting. Without a further answer, Harvey continued. "Uh huh, that's what I thought. And that's why we're gonna check it out tonight instead."

"What, like breaking in?," Jim asked incredulously.

"Nope," Harvey grinned as he showed the article again. "I think we can cash in a little favor," Harvey said, his finger under the line:

" _Art Gallery Sponsor Oswald Cobblepot was happy to help Kean and Valeska get back on track_..."

"You've gotta be kidding me..."

A rather annoyed Detective Gordon stormed down the steps into the GCPD parking lot and to his car.

"'Solo mission,' my ass," he said to himself through gritted teeth. Harvey refused to go with him to talk to Cobblepot.

"Nope, he's _your_ boyfriend, Jim. _You_ go talk to him."

He hopped into his car and looked at his passenger side reflexively. He could remember nearly every glance he gave Lee in that car. Her smile, her laugh, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion, her teeth chittering from the cold, her sweaters and dresses and adorable raincoats, her special umbrella...

"Oswald," he said into the empty car, his lips working for him. He put the car in reverse and drove without needing to think of the direction anymore.

When he got there, the club was dead. He expected that of course, it being still the afternoon... at least, it seemed like the afternoon; no one could really tell with the dark rain clouds covering the sky all the damn time.

He knocked on the club door. No answer. He tried to doorknob, and voilà, the door opened. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The grey sunlight from the windows were the only light in the expansive club. It gave a strange sense of calming instead of its usual uneasy drunkenness; it was almost peaceful.

Jim rested his hands on his hips as he studied the purple decorations. He almost liked Oswald's style better than Fish Mooney's. He wondered if Oswald would be sleeping right about now, considering the criminal was wide awake when he gave Jim the rock. He felt around in his pocket until he found the gift he received from Oswald. Jim decided to leave the bow on since Selina had tied it for him.

The door was suddenly pushed open and he gracefully plopped the rock back into his pocket, despite the rush of blood through his ears. He settled his hands back on his hips to appear more natural. The Cat herself strutted through the door, her boots clicking against the title until she saw Jim.

"Selina," he greeted and smiled awkwardly, "it's good to see you." He should have expected to see her here; after all, she lived there.

Selina gave Jim a suspicious look, studying the detective up and down for, assumedly, an explanation. She didn't say a word and seemed about ready to bolt back out the door. Jim turned his gaze to the floor, not wanting to scare Selina away with his next words.

"Selina... we need to talk," only silence answered him. He looked up again to see if she left, but she was still there. She was frozen to the ground and her eyes were wide.

"No," she whispered, Jim barely hearing her.

"No?," he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm too late," her face crumpled at her words and tears slipped down her cheeks. "I couldn't- I wasn't- _there_ ," she cried and stumbled forward, eventually reaching Jim. She grabbed onto his biceps and held on for dear life. "He's gone, isn't he? I wasn't there for him and now he's gone and-," she cried into his chest, almost hugging him but not quite.

"Selina," he called softly, "what are you talking about?"

"Oswald!," she wailed.

"What the hell is going on in here?," a raspy voice asked from the hallway, the owner shuffling in with slippers a black robe. Oswald had a sour look on with his hair completely ruffled. His nap had been most rudely interrupted.

"Boss!," Selina gasped and forgot her tears. She ran across the club from Jim to Oswald and nearly tackled the man over with a hug. Oswald held the girl back awkwardly and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"My, my, I've never seen you so hysterical," Oswald grumbled into her blonde curls.

"I thought you was dead!," she pulled back and pouted.

"What in the world gave you that idea?," Oswald sassed, his hands gesturing to the "world" dramatically. Selina's index finger was suddenly directed at Jim.

"Him," before she could continue, the detective interrupted.

" _Me?_ ," Jim cried indignantly. "I didn't say anything of that nature."

"Yeah, but you came in here with all that ' _we need to talk_ ' nonsense, making it sound like someone freaking _died_ ," Selina put her hands on her own hips by now, staring Jim down.

"If you would let me finish I would've told you why I came here in the first place, but you just _love_ fighting people for some reason," Jim crossed his arms and Selina mirrored him again.

"I do not-"

"Enough! The both of you!," Oswald boomed, his glare moving between his subordinate and the detective.

Jim had never heard Oswald's tone of authority before; it ran a strange shiver down his spine.

The small man's cold glare softened immediately.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to change," and with that Oswald shuffled away in his adorable sleepwear.

Adorable?

Harvey's words came back to him all at once.

" _Everyone knows you have a soft spot for him_."

Alright, so maybe Jim was protective of Penguin, but have ya seen the guy? He really did look like the cute bird from the South Pole. And the way he pouted when he didn't get his way or how sweet he treated Jim, every time without fail.

The way he pleaded in Jim's arms that day on the dock; how close they manage to get every other time they meet... Jim was the one responsible for those times Oswald was pressed flush against him: the dock, outside Barbara's apartment, the ogre. Oswald wasn't the type to get into other people's faces, much less get close to anyone at all.

Jim regretted not accepting that hug.

"Jim, you good?," Selina asked, letting the concern through. Jim nodded. He rubbed his face roughly and ran his fingers through his golden hair.

"I need a favor," he said simply. "From your boss." Selina snorted.

"When don't you?," she purred knowingly.

"Yeah, well, this one isn't a big deal. Just some questions on that art gallery he sponsors," he smiled sourly.

"The one Barbara owns?," Selina asked, genuinely curious. Jim was taken aback by the question. He opened his mouth to ask, but she cut him off. "Bruce watches the news. Heavily. He was worried about you," she mentioned like it was common knowledge.

"About... me?," Jim asked softly. The last time Jim and Bruce talked, Bruce had a berated him for not doing everything he could to become a detective again and solve the Wayne's murder case.

"Oh yeah," she rolled her eyes. "He never shuts up about ya. Always like 'he's so awesome' and 'I wanna be just like Detective Gordon when I'm older.' You were the big brother he always wanted, or something like that," Selina tallied off with her fingers. Then the realization hit. "Don't tell him I said that," she said quickly. Jim smirked.

"And what happens if I accidentally let it slip?," he teased.

"Then the last thing you'll see is Bruce's heartbroken face before I claw your eyes out. Do ya really want that, Jim?," she replied easily. He raised his hands in surrender. The ghost of the smirk lingered.

"So that was you," Jim mentioned casually.

"What was me?," she snapped.

"Oh, nothing," he sang. Before she could question Jim about his cryptic words, Oswald limped back into the room.

"Good afternoon, Jim and Selina," his flawlessly-rehearsed charismatic tone greeted warmly. "What can I help you with today?"

* * *

AN: Ik ik I suck at Jim's emotions, but hey I'm tryin here.

Also for **angelmorales514** if you're still reading, I did kinda mean for Oswald to be awkward because he was not in his right head and he doesn't know how to ask for affection anyway lmao. I hope this clears up Jim's feelings towards him as I'm trying not to be too OOC yet develop their relationship, ya feel?

Thanks for all the love!


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Make Love, Not War

AN: another reason why I've been gone is because I started reading this one fic right? And it was so good that I couldn't continue writing this one until I finished reading that one. Said fic is called "Shadow Selves" by Lauralot on the lovely fanfic . net, 100 chapters, over 268,000 words, and it's from 2009. Best fucking thing I've read in my whole life. I highly recommend.

and it's batman... and scarecrow... in the Dark Knight movie section... 10/10

* * *

Okay, can I just say how much of an ass Jim Gordon is? Like seriously, dude, get a life.

He literally invades my home and tells me that "we need to talk." Like, what kinda bullshit is that?

Then he has the audacity to _fight_ with me about _my_ emotions?

And don't think I didn't catch that remark about scratching that guy's eye out. I just couldn't believe Jim would remember some random guy without an eye during that whole kidnapping b.s.

Anyway, back to the ridiculous build-up of my Boss and Jimbo's relationship, or in other words: "The One Where Selina is Caught Between Two Idiots in Love."

"Good afternoon, Jim and Selina," his flawlessly-rehearsed charismatic tone greeted warmly. "What can I help you with today?"

"Jim-bo wants-a fa-vorrr," I sang annoyingly.

Jim looked at Boss nervously, "it's more asking for permission than anything."

"Permission?," Boss asked, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you need my permission for?"

"When you sponsor something, doesn't that mean you own it?" Boss thought that over, regarding Jim carefully. He shrugged.

"In a way, yes," he answered simply. "Why?"

"You know that art gallery that Barbara Kean... co-owns?"

"Ye-es?," Boss teased. He seemed a mix amused and annoyed at the same time.

"Well, we got a... tip. About a crime that's... going to happen," I guess saying it out loud, Jim figured out it sounded a little sketchy. He shook it off. "Does Valeska work there as well?"

"Val... Oh! Jerome. Yes, he does. He practically begged me for a simple cleaning position. He said he wanted to support 'his Babs.' Isn't that just the cutest thing?" Oh, that was a definite smirk. Boss seemed like his usual self again! Though, I wondered where Ivy was. So, naturally, I interrupted Jim's casual interrogation.

"Where's Ivy?," I asked the always-well-dressed man in front of me.

"Ivy? What kind of ivy are you looking for?," he gave me a skeptical look.

"The ginger?," I couldn't help the attitude. _Still as clueless as the flightless bird he's named after_ , I thought.

"Ginger?," he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, Boss, the terrifying little red-head that wrecks everything she touches. Where is she?," I explained flatly. He still seemed confused.

"Sweetheart, I don't know any red-heads. Well, except for Jerome, but our acquaintance is rather new."

My mind went into overdrive, fires broke out and screaming rang through my ears. She... she couldn't have...

But she did.

"Is this girl a street... _colleague_ of yours?," Boss asked, his attempt at subtly falling short by a landslide.

I was too livid to care.

Ivy gave him the antidote alright. Then she had the _audacity_ to erase his mind.

She was as good as dead in my book.

I put on my best smile. "An old friend of mine," I said with a sickly sweet tone. "She told me she'd visit today." I shrugged. "I guess not," it was a battle to keep the venom out of my voice, but I'm pretty sure both Boss and Jim knew my intention was murder. Smartly, neither of them asked.

"So what did you need permission for, exactly?," he asked Jim with an heir of disinterest.

"I, uh...," Jim swallowed thickly. "Need to, um, scope the place out. For surveillance. For any... crime." Wow, that was painful.

Boss's eyebrows drew together. "I hardly believe that you'd need _my_ permission to survey an establishment for criminal activity." He tilted his head slightly. "Unless, you're indirectly accusing me of said criminal activity." Boss's eyes trailed down Jim's body slowly and met the taller man's blue orbs again. "Which is not your style of accusation."

You have no idea how happy I was that his usual snarky-ness was back in full swing. And I was still his number one girl with no red-headed vegan ruining things? _Maybe I won't murder Ivy_ , I thought to myself with a grin, _just brutally maim_.

"That's not what I-," Jim stopped himself and sighed frustratedly. "Look: Bullock wants to go after closing, so if your goons see us, don't freak out, okay?" I stifled a giggle at his phrasing. Jim really was a kid after all. "And if there is any criminal activity that you're a part of, I won't even hesitate," he growled out that last part. Boss gave a blank, almost bored, look.

"I'm sure," he relented, sounding beyond his years. I was expecting him to fight back, but after everything with him and his feelings towards Jim, I kinda understood how fighting all the time could be emotionally draining, especially with Jim.

Jim seemed more awkward after Boss's surrender and shuffled slowly to the door.

"Why don't we join you in your heist?," my eyes widened when I realized the words came out of _my_ mouth. Boss gave me a curious look.

'What are you doing?,' he mouthed at me. I didn't have a chance to answer.

"Like, you two? Come with?," Jim asked like a kid who had asked his mom for ice cream and she actually agreed. And he thinks he's straight. I glanced quickly to the noir beside me then back to the blond.

"Why not?," I shrugged. "You'll definitely need better back-up if you think Barbara's gonna jump out of nowhere and kill you." Then it hit me. I tilted my head slightly in understanding. "You _don't_ want to see Barbara, huh?" He gave me that forced smile.

"What gave it away?," he joked.

"You being strangely excited that I'm also coming with you; so obviously you need to talk about something because it's bothering you, but you can't talk to Buttock about it because he'd just never understa-" a warm, calloused hand covered my mouth. If looks could kill, I'd be buried by now.

"For your information," he growled out quiet enough that only I could hear, "I like having back-up."

I laughed into his palm. "Yeah, right," I muffled into his hand. He took his hand away.

"What?"

"I said, 'YEAH, RIGHT'," I yelled in his face. He was taken aback, as expected. His face was priceless. "Now get outta my house, ya hobo."

"Excuse me?," he recovered quickly, although more confused at my command than angry about my little deduction.

"Well, d'ya have anything else to talk about?," I prompted. He shut up. Well, he grumbled a bit, but then he left with a last fleeting look to Boss.

He needed to talk about something. I knew it. But he didn't want Boss to know about it. I made a mental note to visit him later. For a partner, Buttock really didn't help Jim with his problems.

I turned around, away from the door, and found myself directly in front of the King of Gotham himself. He gave me a stern look.

"And where the hell have you been, Ms. Kyle?," he accused. It felt strangely like I'd broken curfew and my mom had stayed up until I had walked through the door. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of my mother and our old apartment but shoved those thoughts back down.

"Out," I answered.

"Out," he repeated flatly.

"Uh huh," I said with a wide smile.

"For two weeks," he added with the same monotone.

"It has _not_ been two weeks. Like, one at most," I corrected.

"Well, it's certainly felt like two," he muttered, running his fingers through his thin hair. "This is going to sound like an odd request, but can you help me recall the past couple of weeks? I seem to be a bit... hazy..."

"Oh, Boss," I teased, a huge, stupid grin plastered across my face. Opportunities like these come once in a life time. "Do I have a story for you."


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Catlike Reflexes

I assure you, I spared no details.

I decided to move us to the table so he wouldn't pass out on the floor. Again. I sat in his throne since _I_ was the storyteller this evening, and he ate up everything I said, sitting attentively next to me.

He was very skeptical at first of my recollection of the past couple weeks, then he started turning pink, and at the end of it his hands completely covered his face. Unfortunately for him, his bright red ears gave his feelings away.

"You're not serious," he groaned into his pale hands.

"Oh, Oswald, Sweetheart, I am." I got a sadistic satisfaction of seeing my Boss unravel in front of me. It wasn't even the fact I could _totally_ use this to blackmail him into giving me anything I wanted. No, it was the _way_ he was reacting. He was just so cute about it. He was like a kid who messed up in front of his crush at school and came running home to his mom and told her all about it.

Not to compare myself to his mom or... anything... you know what, never mind.

"Gah," he rubbed his face roughly, "I don't believe it. How could I not even remember that?" He shook his head at the very thought.

"Well, I could definitely track down that Ivy for you and we can interrogate her together," a sick excitement laced my voice. I never trusted that girl anyway. "Oh, and by the way: maybe you shouldn't drink random-ass potions that have 'drink me' on the top of it." I still wasn't over that. How stupid could ya be?

He turned to me and finally looked me in the eye. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth parted slightly.

"I thought that was from you," he confessed softly, almost indignantly as if it was my fault. I scoffed.

"Why would you think that? I've never made a thing in my life," I joked. Mayhem, mischief, murder... okay, that one time was a spur of the moment and he totally deserved it, but still. I made plenty of things, none of them edible, nor _good_.

"Because I had just told you about my childhood," he looked almost hurt.

For some reason, my heart twisted uncomfortably and my stomach felt like lead... that was on _fire_. The smirk dropped from my face.

"What are you talking about," it was barely a whisper, not even a true question.

"I told you that my mother used to read to me every night, and that my favorite book was _Alice In Wonderland_ ," he paused. I felt overwhelmed by the eye contact, his raw emotions flooding through, but I couldn't turn away from those glittering green orbs. "Did you... did you tell her... about that?," his already uneven voice cracked. I felt sucker-punched to the point where all the air left my lungs. I gasped reflexively.

"It wasn't anything important," I spluttered. My eyes widened as my own stupid words registered. "I mean- it wasn't anything big. It was personal stuff not business-"

"Personal stuff is much more dangerous to tell in our line of work, Selina," he said sternly. He looked away, resigned.

I fucked up. The thought rang like a church bell, again and again with a throbbing pulsation throughout my skull. I just got him back, and I fucked it up.

He was disappointed in me. Which didn't make any sense. No one had high expectations of me, so no one ever got disappointed with me. But this man... he did.

After a long silence- or at least I think it was silent; my blood was pumping through my ears a bit too loud to really know- Boss sighed. He played with his eyebrow, a nervous tic of his.

"Well, might as well get ready for the night watch shenanigans you signed us up for," he said with a plastered smile. He really was a good actor.

He didn't show me his eyes again until it was time to leave.

Boss took an excruciatingly long shower. I mean, he finally started practicing normal hygiene routines, and I was thrilled, but he was just like a lady sometimes. It must have been forty-five minutes, and that was the water running. He stayed in there an extra half hour doing God only knows what. I think I even heard the hairdryer.

I didn't make any mention of it or tried to get him to hurry, but I was close to breaking a wall out of spite. I'm passive-aggressive like that. Bruce once called me "aggressive-aggressive." I socked him in the arm for that.

Boss came out in his robe again, his hair was fluffed up and not greasy for once, and his cheeks were pink. I swear he put on some eye makeup but I would never ask about that. Not to his face.

He gave me a disdainful kind of look, like I was an annoying neighbor bothering him with my very presence. It hurt, but at least he acknowledged at me.

"Be quick, Cat. We don't have all day," and with that he hobbled into his room. I didn't notice my teeth were clinched together until it hurt. I breathed in deep through my nose and out my mouth. _Oh, I'll be quick, don't you worry_.

I'm not entirely sure what I meant by that, but the snarky voice in my head always had to retort, even if the threat would be completely empty.

I peeled off my leather and tattered clothes and hopped into the shower. I tried to get my hair fully soaked, which took _years_ , then slathered a quarter of the conditioner bottle into the dirty blonde curls. My hair almost looked chestnut when it was completely wet. I took my own little bar of soap and started lathering it first with my hands. Then I noticed a long strand of orange hair. I felt a growl deep in my throat then decided to scream my anguish into the white tiled shower.

Strangely enough, the scream calmed me more than my breathing technique.

I put the soap back in it's holder, trying not to give it another look before I really lost my marbles. I looked at Boss's special strawberry-banana body wash and my two angels buzzed in my ears.

He was already mad at me. Don't make it worse.

But he wouldn't really _smell_ me.

I popped the top and took a whiff.

Oh... oh, that's nice. Did he ever actually smell like this? No... he probably never uses it... hmm...

* * *

I pulled my excitingly straight hair into a normal and non-painful ponytail. I looked at my plump face in the annoyingly decorative mirror. I pinched my cheeks then looked at my arms. I had gotten chubby since Boss took me in.

I thought about how muscular Bruce had gotten lately. He could pick me up with ease. Or at least, he played it off like it was easy. He probably thought I was heavy but was too polite in that prep-school way of his to say anything.

This thought process, naturally, hurt my own damn feelings. I shook my head at myself.

I could still climb better than he could and get to places he had trouble with. I snuck around better than him and could definitely pickpocket way better than he could ever hope to. And in a way, I owned a part of Gotham he never could.

But he never saw any of those as good things.

 _Knock, knock, knock_

"What in the world are you doing in there?," Boss's parental voice drifted through the bathroom door.

I rewrapped my towel across my chest and opened the door. He was in a new suit with a baby blue handkerchief poking out of his collar. He looked, admittedly, very nice.

"Hey," I mumbled weakly. "Didn't take as long as you." My thoughts did more damage than I anticipated. I tried to push past him but he suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me securely but not close enough to touch torsos.

An unfathomable panic bubbled through my stomach and up my throat. He never touched me. He never touched anyone.

"What are you _doing?_ ," I squeaked. A memory I had shoved deep into my mind flashed across my eyes.

* * *

Break-ins were common. Their one-bedroom apartment was so cheep because of that fact.

Selina's mom had just finished another week at her new job. Her job wasn't like other jobs. She had to wear all black and sometimes a mask to go "incognito." She even had special orange goggles to hide her beautiful eyes.

She came into the apartment with this outfit and her little girl was waiting for her on their shared full-sized bed.

"Mama, Mama! I made mac n cheese when you was gone," little Selina squealed excitedly. Selina's mother took off the orange goggles and pulled down her mask. A smile appeared under the woman's eyeliner streaked eyes. She crouched in front of her daughter.

"Is _that_ the mess in the kitchen," the woman said playfully.

"Uh huh," Selina giggled.

"Well, I think ya know I have to tell the tickle monster about cha lil stunt, missy."

"Noooooo!," the girl screeched and tried run from her mother's agile fingers but to no avail. Her shrieks of laughter didn't help her in the slightest for escaping.

After the mother felt like she tortured her little one enough, she began to peel off her black and leather clothes. She first pulled out an ivory-looking necklace and laid it on the fold-up table they used as a nightstand, then she continued undressing.

"I'm gonna take a shower, be good, no mac and cheese while I'm in there," she told her child while wrapping a towel around her now-naked self.

"You got cha," little Selina saluted her mother. The little girl watched as her mother left their small bedroom and into the hallway. Selina admired the shiny necklace from afar, not daring to touch it. The last time she touched one of her mother's trophies, she-

She heard a bloodcurdling scream that was cut short. An empty moment passed.

"Mama?," she choked on the word as tears clouded her vision. Nothing made her mother scream; she wasn't afraid of anything in the whole world, not even the police.

Selina jumped off the bed and threw open the door.

A man she didn't recognize had her mother pinned to the adjacent wall, pressing a knife against the woman's throat. He had black clothes, just like how her mother dressed for "work." The man swiveled his head to the little girl in the doorway, his bulbous nose sticking out ridiculously. A crooked smile split his haggard features.

"So this is lil Selina, ain't it?," he sneered nasally. Selina took a step back into the room. "Grab 'er for me, Barry, would ya?" A second man, dressed exactly like the first, popped out of nowhere and stepped towards Selina.

"DON'T TOUCH HER," Selina's mother boomed, momentarily stunning the two men. It was just enough to twist the knife out of the big nosed man's hand and flung it next to Barry's head. It lodged itself deep into the wall in front of Barry's nose.

Unfortunately the first man composed himself quickly and twisted one of the woman's arms behind her back, her towel slipping dangerously low.

Barry ducked under the new wall decoration and wrapped an arm around Selina's waist, holding her away a good distance but keeping her stationed all the same.

"Now, Maria," the big nosed man drawled. "Where-," he slammed her face first into the wall, "-is the necklace?"

Selina gasped and Barry held her tighter, digging his nails through her pajamas. Selina's mother turned her head slowly to the intruder and glared.

"Fuck off," she spat. The man pulled her off the wall and shook her roughly.

"Last warning, ya dumb broad," he snarled in her face. Selina's mother didn't show an ounce of fear. She gathered saliva from the back of her throat and spat in his face.

His face turned into a tomato and smoke rushed from his ears. Selina was in pure awe of her mother. Her badass attitude something Selina was always proud of and was her favorite thing she got from her mom.

Then, he forced the woman onto her knees.

The big nosed man grabbed onto her chin, forcing her blue eyes up at him. He pulled back his other arm and made a fist.

"NO!," Selina screamed, struggling to the point where Barry was clawing her side painfully, holding her back the same way her Boss was holding her now.

Those two robbers got the necklace that night. It would've paid for rent that month.

A week later, Selina's mother left...

And Selina's life of Cat began.

* * *

"GET OFF OF ME," I screamed. Boss didn't let go quickly enough and I head-butted him as hard as I could. My mind clouded further from the impact, but his arm left my waist and held his head. I sprinted to my room and slammed the door behind me.

I didn't have the hindsight of my little breakdown in the long run, but I just couldn't care. Tears rushed down my blotched cheeks. I sat on the floor, only my towel covering me.

What is _wrong_ with me?

Why do I do more harm than good?

It's a no brainer that everyone left me.

I wallowed in these self-pitying thoughts for a while. My sobs became less violent and died down to sniffles. I needed a good cry.

After my butt got numb from sitting on the hard floor, I wiped my face and got up. I blew my nose and got dressed, ready for the shenanigans that'd happen that night.

I hoped Boss's head was okay...

* * *

An: Greetings my lovelies! I've missed you terribly. Unfortunately I had to forfeit my laptop to my school since I graduated. Pity. But I got a new laptop finally! And another chapter on the way. It'll be our own J and Babs. Then after that? stakeout time. And after that? well who knows hehehe.

R&R por favor -ooo

P.S. - when I wrote this chapter, I didn't know that the Flash's real name was Barry... oh well.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Coming Together

Business was _booming_ today. Usually Thursday's were tame, and even on the busiest days it was a steady flow of people.

Not the _crowds_ today.

Despite all the beautiful art gracing the white expansive walls, only one piece of art brought these people in. Her name was Barbara Kean.

Of course, it wasn't her beauty that drew people in, but the mystery of it all.

The mystery of Arkham Asylum.

No one knew anything about that little aspect of Gotham City except the workers and the few patients that were moved to Metropolis. And, of course, some of the escapees, but no one would bombard _them_ with questions.

No, let's all go to the only Gothamite who Arkham Asylum seemed to "cure."

To say Jerome was a bit jealous was a gross understatement. He was never the center of attention; he was used to that. No one even _knew_ the snake dancer had a son, and that's how it always was. No, it wasn't about that.

It was _Barbara's_ attention he wanted. No one gave the kind of attention Barbara gave him. She never beat him, never insulted him, never left him to fend for himself.

She was an angel, sent from God to give Jerome another chance.

At least, that's what Aunt Sue called her.

* * *

"Please, Auntie, please. He'll only get worse in there, you know that!"

"Why on _Earth_ do you think I'd break out a boy you like, along with your troublesome tush?," Sue chastised exasperatedly. "No, the boy stays here."

Barbara had just finished getting dressed in her stylish sundress. She had all her stuff packed and ready to go except...

"Auntie, you don't even _know_ Jerome yet. Meet him first, _please_. He's a sweet boy. No one's ever loved him before." Sue gave her niece a skeptical look. Barbara gave her best puppy eyes. "He's just like me. He needs someone."

Sue kept her poker face, knowing better by know than to show sympathy to any old sob story. Or any weakness in front of her notorious-party niece. She did honestly think the predicament over.

Maybe this Jerome could be useful.

* * *

"I only have to keep you two for a month, and after that you're _gone_ ," Sue established firmly after the "newly-sane" couple got situated.

Aunt Susie, naturally, inherited the mansion after Barbara's father's... _unfortunate_ passing. They were all the way in uptown Chicago.

Jerome was accustomed to traveling; his entire way of life used to be that of a nomad. What he wasn't accustomed to was the extravagant cleanliness of the house. It nearly burned his eyes with how white the walls were and the huge chandeliers shining like paparazzi cameras.

He stared in awe at the mile high ceilings and waxed floors, scared to take a step forward. He never realized how dingy his simple red and black flannel really was.

Barbara picked up on his almost petrified expression and side hugged him gently.

"Home sweet home, right?," she smirked playfully.

Jerome turned to his unlikely friend and nearly melted at the smile. There was no malice in her expression at all. She wasn't drunk, or sinister, or pitying. She was hopeful, excited for him to be with her.

"Hey," Sue called the love birds out of their creepily intense eye contact. They snapped their heads towards her. "No funny business, you hear me? This is a house of the Lord now, and you're not disrespecting the Lord," Sue waggled her finger back and forth. The boy's eyebrows pulled together as if confused and Barbara rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Mother Dear," she drawled irritably.

"I'm serious, Barbie, you're not eighteen anymore. Not even twenty-one."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure Jerome doesn't even _know_ about sex." The boy's head then snapped to the blonde beside him.

"I know about sex," he blurted defensively. Both of the woman looked at him curiously.

"Ever had any?," Barbara purred teasingly, only to piss off her aunt.

"No, but my mom has." Sue's jaw dropped and even Barbara's eyes widened. "had," he corrected quickly, "sorry."

"Don't, uh, worry about it," Barbara reassured softly. Sue all but shoved them towards their side of the mansion after that.

"And we go to Church every Sunday," Sue told them sternly, more reassuring herself than anything.

Although the mansion was all the way in Chicago, Barbara still wanted her curator job back at Gotham. It really was her dream job, and she wasn't going to give it up because of a couple of murders...

And that one attempt on the GCPD's medical examiner...

Well, she'll just have to get over it.

* * *

The place hadn't change a bit since Barbara's last shift. Seemed a bit more empty than usual actually.

"Hello?," she called out into the open white halls. Jerome stayed close beside her, obviously on edge. "Relax, sweetheart, nothing's gonna pop out at you."

A door opened at the end of the hall: Barbara's old office. A man stepped out and swiftly shut the door behind him. He was good-looking but not strikingly so, and he was a bit short. His graying hair but smooth features had Barbara between guesses of age when he said something.

"Sorry, what was that?," she smiled politely.

"I said, can I help you with something?," he said it like it hurt to be polite to her back. Barbara stuck out her hand.

"Barbara Kean. It's nice to meet you. Are you the new curator?" The man immediately recognized the name and had to force himself not to bolt. "Oh, come now. Don't be _shy_ ," she opened her eyes just a bit wider along with her smile for that classic psychotic look. "What's your name, honey?"

"Dave...," he cleared his throat. "David Holahan." Jerome snorted then covered his mouth tightly.

"Well, ain't that cute," Barbara cooed to the man, "just like a _hoola_ - _hoop_." The man took a step backward as she took one forward.

"Barbara," a firm voice called from the other end of the hallway. All three heads turned to see another man, much older than Dave and also more stylish. He stood at the opening of the hall, arms crossed and not looking amused. "Leave Dave alone, please." Barbara's face lit up at the sight.

"Mr. Denbrough!," she couldn't help but squeal. She rushed down the hallway, her heels clicking loudly the whole way, and nearly tackled the man with a hug. "I thought I'd never see you again," she said into his shoulder.

"Well, here I am," his voice rumbled softly. He held her back gently until he patted her back twice to signify to her to let go. She did.

"Did you hear the news?," she asked excitedly.

"How could I not, darling?," he asked with a disapproving heir.

"Not that news. I'm sane again! I promise. I'd just really really _really_ like my old job back. You think you could hook me up?" Mr. Denbrough sighed.

"I'm afraid that decision is no longer up to me," he said, genuinely sad. He leaned down so that he was right next to her ear. "You know that I'd love you back in a heartbeat. But I'm afraid... you're going to have to ask our new owner."

"New owner?! Who?!"

* * *

"Ms. Kean? What a surprise!," Cobblepot welcomed with a smile. "How have you been?" He patted the chair next to him to invite her to sit.

"Oh, I've been better, been worse," she said conversationally, taking the offered seat. Jerome stood awkwardly behind her.

"Been worse?," Cobblepot questioned lightheartedly.

"Well, I could still be stuck in there," she chuckled with the small man in the throne like they were old friends talking about old times. Barbara decided to get to the point. "Mr. Cobblepot, I'm sorry to do this, but I need a favor." Cobblepot smiled sadly at the words.

"Yes, I suppose you do. What is it?," he asked softly. "Would you like your job back?"

"I... yes." The small man chuckled again, seeming to reminisce for a moment.

"Alright. You may have your job back." He raised a skinny index finger. "On one condition."

* * *

"What was it like?"

"Do they beat the inmates in there?"

"Were you scared for your life with all those psychos?"

"Did they drug you until you were compliant?"

The same ridiculous questions over and over. Jerome would've like to _show_ some of them how Arkham was like, but he had to be good.

None of them asked about Barbara's specific trial or how the hell she actually got out of there. They knew better than that. They knew the family, and they knew Gotham.

No one asked about Jerome either, despite his very noticeable, overly-red hair. Yet again, he only cleaned the rooms that didn't have a lot of people in them. Even then, there wasn't ever a mess because it was all bourgeoisie couples and old people. But at least he got paid.

And he got to see and help his Babs whenever he could.

* * *

"Please, Mr. Cobblepot, sir, I need a job too. Anything would be good. I'm eighteen and I still haven't had sex let alone a job- n-not to say I'm not capable of-" Oswald raised a pale hand to silence the boy.

This red-headed young man stayed behind after Barbara Kean left the room. She tried to beckon him to her before she was out of sight, but he smiled weakly and put an index finger up in a "one moment" gesture.

"Well, young man, what kind of job are you looking for? I've got plenty of spaces open and little jobs that need doing," the man leaned forward in his chair. "Like getting your hands dirty?"

"Oh, sir," Jerome sighed softly. "I'd love to do what you're offering, honest. But-," the boy turned slightly to the door, "-it isn't about me anymore."

"Ahhh," Cobblepot said knowingly. "Well, Jerome was it? If you ever change your mind, I'm sure you'd be great at what I do. But for now, why don't you take a job at the art gallery your partner in crime directs. Take Victor with you."

"Vic... tor?"

"ZSASZ," Cobblepot boomed, making Jerome jump a bit. A man stepped out of the shadows. His entire body up to his neck was clad in black. He was bald, including his eyebrows.

"Yes, Boss?," Zsasz responded, his eyes never leaving Jerome.

"Escort this young man along with Barbara Kean to that little art place we just bought. You remember don't you?"

"Yes. I remember. Strange place to buy," the bald man's eyes were still on Jerome.

"It was more of a gift for protection," Cobblepot explained defensively, then composed himself. "But I see no threats from their concerns. I'm sure you and Ms. Kean will behave yourselves," he said with a reassuring smile. Jerome's eyebrows furrowed.

"Concerns?," he asked softly. Cobblepot chuckled.

"Yes, they were very concerned about your little friend coming after them next. She was in Arkham after all. They also heard about you. Jerome Val... Valentino?"

"Valeska," Jerome corrected. Cobblepot snapped as if he had just remembered himself.

"That's the one. Killed your mother. Snake dancer or something. Anyway, very sad, very intimidating. A lot of these mobsters' weaknesses are their mothers... they couldn't imagine how you could be... so cold..." Jerome had to fight his feelings to keep his voice steady.

"She wasn't really a mother."

"Oh, I don't doubt you, Jerome. There are some awful people out there, and sometimes their children have to suffer because of it... no, I'm sure you and Barbara both had enough justification to snap."

Cobblepot wasn't just talking to get on somebody's good side or escape imminent doom. He really was sympathizing with the couple.

"And that's why I think you'd be great as one of my right hand men. Nothing to lose, everything to gain. I bet even Barbara could survive this life as well. But if you both prefer the domestic life, then I'll be happy to help."

For the first time in Jerome's life, tears of sheer gratitude clouded his eyes.

"Thank you, so much. I just... Babs deserves the best life, ya know? And she's been through so much, I couldn't do that to her. She.. she deserves a man, who can support her, and talk to her, and loves her. Not like Jim Gordon," he spat the name like it was poison.

Cobblepot tensed.

"Of course," he kept his smile. "Victor, tell the art people these two have my blessing to work again. And that they deserve to be treated as such: a blessing."

"Yes, Boss," Zsasz jerked his head in direction to the door, and Jerome got the hint.

Before the two left completely, Cobblepot remembered something.

"Victor, have you seen Selina around anywhere? I feel like I haven't seen her in ages."

"She hasn't come back since you sent her to look after Jim Gordon. She must be doing a good job."

"What? When the hell was that?"

"The same night the ginger sorcerous left and took your penguin with her."

There was a point in every conversation with Victor Zsasz where the words individually were English, but the words combined were like when the Vikings discovered proverbs. Cobblepot gave up.

"Just escort the boy, Victor," the small man sighed, rubbing his temple deeply.

"Will do," the assassin replied, oblivious to his boss's frustration.

Jerome gave them both an undistinguishable look and left the club, Zsasz close behind.

* * *

They've been working at the art gallery for almost a month actually. Only this past week did some nosey reporter find them, when they were minding their own business and trying to make a living.

Oh how he could've ended it right there when that awful woman crept into the gallery that day. But he had to be good. He promised he'd be good.

Although, keeping an eye out wasn't bad, right? Aunt Sue never said anything about stalking people. And the Penguin's condition was for Barbara, not for Jerome.

So figuring out what kind of man Jim Gordon was wasn't a crime. Neither was knowing his apartment number, or that it was his MIA girlfriend's apartment. No, that was average stuff.

What he did need to do some digging for was this Selina.

And what a ginger sorcerous had to do with it all.

* * *

An: I know I sorta threw these two in the mix of things but like, how're y'all feeling about their contribution? Like to see more, less? lmk.


	17. Chapter 17: A Treat

A Treat

* * *

But all of that could wait...

Five o'clock finally struck. Thank the beautiful stars. All the visitors were politely rushed out and the glass doors shut behind them.

Barbara and Jerome exhaled similar sighs of relief. They made eye contact across the room and smiled warmly. Before they could met each other in the middle of the room however, Mr. Denbrough stepped in between.

"Another spectacular day, wouldn't you say, Ms. Kean?" His voice ran like silk and his eyelashes fluttered behind his dark frames.

"I would say, indeed," Barbara purred as she moved past him and onto Jerome. Although a certain little something stopped her from actually jumping on him.

A warm freckled hand cupped her stomach gently.

"How's he doin today?," Jerome asked only loud enough for Barbara to hear. She smiled.

"Hungry," she answered just as soft.

"Well, let's fix that, shall we?" Jerome purred and lifted her up bridal style without hesitation. He started his waltz towards the exit before the third presence in the room cleared his throat.

"And where do you think you're going? We're not fully closed for the day yet."

"Tell that to Junior!" Jerome called over his shoulder. Barbara helped kick the door open so they walked out smoothly. Both of them had the beginnings of a date night on the mind.

* * *

"Harv, quit hogging the binoculars," Jim grumbled to his partner.

"You ain't gonna believe this, Jimbo," Harvey muttered off-handedly. He still had the binoculars, sticking himself halfway out the window.

"Well, seeing is believing, Harvey," Jim snarked as he tried another grab at the exaggerated glasses. It was another minute before Harvey sighed and gave the pair of eyes to his partner.

Judging by the growl, Jim found the exact predicament troubling Harvey.

"I can't believe this-"

"Told ya," Harvey snorted. Jim glared.

"Is this some big joke to you? Two murderers are dating _and_ working together. We've got another Bonnie and Clyde on our hands."

"Those two are not coordinated enough to be like that. They're _too_ crazy. Besides, an art gallery? What the hell are they gonna do there?"

"...Steal something," Jim mumbled, his resolve softening. Harvey snorted again.

"Yeah, cuz a couple of ex-murderers decided to get a job and THEN get into theft instead. Look, I know you don't trust them- hell, I don't trust 'em neither- but sometimes, ya gotta let it go. I don't think they would write a riddle and send it all the way to the GCPD."

"Oh yeah," Jim said to himself. Unfortunately for him, his partner heard it.

"What, did you just think this was an excuse to see how much better off Barbara is without you? Get your head in the game, ya pansy," and with that Harvey hopped out of the car and started down the hill towards the gallery.

"Harv, wait!" Jim called in vane and looked around, borderline frantic.

"They're not comin, Jim. Give it up already," Harvey called over his shoulder in return. Jim's shoulders sagged slightly and he trucked along a few steps behind Harvey. "I don't even understand why they were supposed to tag along in the first place."

"I trust Cat," Jim defended weakly. "She's real good at sneaking into places she shouldn't be."

Harvey turned to him with a raised brow. "Ooookayyy, and is there a seemingly _normal_ reason you know that?" When Jim failed to respond in time, Harvey continued, "that's what I thought."

"She visits me, in my apartment-"

"And ya see that's already WAY too much information that I never wanted to know," the bearded man flailed his arms as he talked.

"Jesus, Harv, she's a kid! She just...," Jim sighed heavily, never really wanting to tell anyone about Selina's surprise visits and actually-helpful advice, but he was NOT about to have his partner think of him in that way. "She helped me with Lee. And she calmed me down. It's more insightful to get advice from another woman than a man."

"But Jim," Harvey turned around and stopped halfway through the parking lot. He stared into Jim's face for a moment, the awkwardness of the conversation turning into more serious apprehension.

"You are a woman." Harvey turned back to the building, a smirk stretching his features as he continued his waltz to the doors.

"Aha aha, you're _so_ funny. You should quit your day job."

"Oh but, Jim, where would you be without me?" Before Jim could come up with a snarky comeback, a sudden weight on his shoulders nearly knocked him down to the pavement.

"Were you guys gonna start without us?" the weight pouted. Jim sighed, chancing a glance at Oswald. He seemed a bit tense.

"There's actually not much you can-"

"Shhh," Harvey put an index finger in front of his lips. Selina slipped off of Jim's back and tiptoed closer to the large glass doors.

There was a toothpick of a man inside with a clipboard and a pair of glasses on the edge of his long nose.

"I thought you wanted to sneak in after hours," Selina commented with her eyebrows drawn together.

"That was the plan," Harvey mumbled.

Jim turned to Oswald, "I thought you said that Barbara was the curator."

"She should be." Oswald stepped closer to the doors and recognized the man. He smiled gracefully, "that's the owner." He tapped on the glass with his cane.

The man looked toward the door and as soon as he saw The Penguin he sped-walked to the door. He opened it welcoming.

"Good evening, Mr. Penguin. In for a stroll around?"

"I'm afraid not today, Mr. Denbrough." He gestured to Jim and Harvey. "My detective friends are investigating... oh, what was it, Jim?"

Jim flashed his badge reflexively, "GCPD, we'd like to ask you some questions."

"Oh, yes, of course. Come in, come in." The detectives stepped in first followed by the Penguin and Selina.

"What is this? I signed up for snooping around, not talking," Selina hissed to her boss.

He leaned closer ever so slightly, "then go snoop." Her eyes lit up with realization. She slipped away from the group and darted into the adjacent room.

"What can I do for you, Detectives?" the owner asked politely.

Before Jim could think to ask about his ex-fiancée, Harvey took to the lead.

"Yes, uh, have you been receiving any threats lately? Or maybe a random, unsettling letters in general?"

"Letters?" Mr. Denbrough asked cautiously.

"Riddles," Jim offered flatly. The man laughed, mostly out of surprise. Soon the incredulity left and a grim expression washed over him.

"No, I haven't." He rubbed his temple with long, bony fingers. "Another psychopath in Gotham. Just what we need," he mumbled.

"You're tellin me," Harvey related. Jim looked around and found the long hidden hallway at the far end of the lobby.

"Have you looked in your office recently?" He pointed down the hall and ventured a guess. The owner followed his gaze then stood straighter.

"Only to grab this," he held up the clipboard. "I neglected to check my desk," he admitted.

Jim flashed a quick half-smile. "Let's go check."

* * *

Boss gave me a curt nod before I heard their footsteps echo down the hallway and he followed.

I'll admit, it was pretty cool to be in a gallery all by myself. I didn't really have to sneak in either, and the cops were on my side. Kinda. If I wrecked anything then obviously they'd have a field day.

I didn't really understand why we were there anyway. Weren't those two _homicide_ detectives? But we're investigating a riddle?

Of course I knew the real reason. Jim wanted to check up on his ex, which is never a good thing. Although, Boss is here so...

Yeah, right. Like either of them saw this as a date. What would have to happen is me and Buttock leaving them alone somehow.

Even though I'd really _really_ prefer not to talk to that hobo-cop, I guess it'd be worth the chance of those two numskulls being happy together.

Jim and I really needed to talk.

I examined each painting carefully, but I didn't get any of them. A majority of them were obtuse... wait no, absent? Abstract? Abstract! That one. I dunno, but they looked weird. Some of them were landscapes. One in particular caught my eye.

It was of an Arctic scene, the green and purple Northern lights lighting up penguins down on the pure white snow. It was small and hung crooked.

Looking around the room, still finding myself alone, I tried to fix the frame myself. As soon as I lifted the frame, a piece of paper slipped out from behind it and hit the floor.

I froze, staring at the folded up paper. I carefully set the painting back against the wall and picked up the clue.

I unfolded it and mouthed the words:

I am a merry creature,  
In pleasant time of year,  
As in but certain seasons,  
I sing that you can hear:  
And yet I'm made a by-word,  
A very perfect mock;  
Compared to foolish persons,  
And silliest of all folk.

"Huh?" I asked aloud, my brow furrowed. I folded it back up and walked down the hallway to the supposed office. "Boss, what the hell is this?" I called.

Boss stepped out of the room and saw the paper in my hand. He took it from me and read it himself. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Whatever it is, I don't like it," he admitted. Jim stepped out then and took it from him. He looked at me.

"Where did you find this?" He asked, rather snappishly.

"It was under a painting." I saw the hobo raise an eyebrow. "I wasn't stealing it," I sneered.

"Sure you weren't, kid," he said in that I'm-better-than-you-because-I'm-an-adult way. I clenched my fist but kept my cool.

"Whatever, I don't have to explain myself to a fake cop," I snarked. He looked about ready to bark at me like a dog.

"Which painting, Selina?" Jim cut in.

"The small one with the penguins," I said while pointing to the room I was in. Then I realized, "...the penguins." The men around me seemed to pick that up as well.

I led the way and showed them the piece in question. The detectives read over the note again.

"Mocking bird?" Bullock offered.

"I believe it is a cuckoo bird, sir," the old guy corrected.

"But it says 'mock'," the detective argued childishly.

"Yes, but it says 'made by-word' which means it is named after what it sings," the old guy was patient enough, but there was an underlying superiority to his tone.

"Whatever," the scruffy man relented.

"Obviously it's not a penguin," Jim took over. He looked to Boss, the wheels turning in his head. "And it was found under the penguins."

"Therefore, it is a threat to me," Boss sighed. "I don't know what coward would play games rather than confronting me himself." Boss forced a smile over the clear irritation.

"Yeah, but why a cuckoo bird?" I spoke up. I stepped closer to Jim to see the riddle again. "I'm pretty sure they are no 'merry creatures' like that in Gotham so what are we supposed to do with this?"

"Not real ones anyway," Jim considered, then the light bulb went off. "Cuckoo clock." He turned to Bullock. "This could be a bomb threat, Harv."

"Woah, woah, where'd you get that from?"

"What, you don't see it?"

Bullock blinked and looked around at the people around him. "No," he raised his eyebrow at his partner. "How does clock equal bomb? And why wouldn't the guy just give it to the Penguin himself? Why would he get us involved?"

A new determination took over Jim. "Because he's taunting us," he turned to Boss, "both of us. With... whatever this means."

Boss scoffed, "Then he's in for quite a treat, isn't he?"

* * *

AN: Thought I was gone like a year? Fear not! I have not forgotten about this story... yet. Truthfully, I haven't even made it past the second season. Fear of the future you see. Oh well, but anyway I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Lmk what y'all think.


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